


Dragon's Roar

by vivi1138



Series: Lilium School For Magic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Arts, Death Magic, Don't copy to another site, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/F, F/M, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Powerful Astoria, Powerful Harry, Private School, Sentient Hogwarts, Wandmaking (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-01-05 04:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 80,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138
Summary: Part 2 of Lilium School For Magic. Reading Part 1 is required.Everything is going according to plan for Umbridge, but the Ministry still can’t find the lost Slytherins or worse, Harry Potter.With new laws coming into play, Voldemort reaching out from the shadows and Hogwarts rebelling, Wizarding Britain is falling into darkness. The students of Lilium deal with NEWTs, apprenticeships and increasingly worrying news from home.





	1. Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, everyone, to part 2!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Wizarding World, J.K. Rowling does.
> 
> \---------------
> 
> Do not copy this story, post it on another site, or translate it without my permission, please.

In an alternate universe, during the summer of 1996, Draco Lucius Malfoy, sixteen years old, kneeled in front of Lord Voldemort, gritted his teeth, and accepted the searing pain of the Dark Mark while his father screamed between the cold walls of an Azkaban cell.

 

In this universe, Draco Sirius Black drew and magically animated a picture of Lord Voldemort dancing the Macarena, then stuck it to the wall of a bedroom he had been sharing with his boyfriend for ten months. Here, Draco had two baby brothers who were fascinated by the colour of his hair and enjoyed pulling on it. He was a weasel Animagus, had a NEWT in Defence, Potions and Charms, blew up a microwave, created a cloud that was still hanging around four weeks after it spawned, hung out with a portrait of James, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter and had earned his moped license.

 

More importantly, he was completely, hopelessly in love with his long-time rival who was, right at this moment, grabbing onto his waist and pressing his body against him while Draco drove along the fjord. Before they left in the morning to spend the day in the nearest town, they had to ensure that Draco’s mother was too busy to stop them. She hated seeing him use any kind of Muggle transportation, calling them death traps, yet she had no trouble watching him play Quidditch. Sometimes, Draco wondered how she would have handled life at the Tranquil Spire Hotel before Astoria Greengrass’ accidental magic fried all electronics in the building and forced the residents to start using magic again.

 

In a way, this magical incident had been a blessing. Narcissa suffered from post-traumatic stress after her ordeal at the hands of Lucius and Voldemort and she needed the familiarity of domestic spells and House Elves cleaning and cooking by snapping their fingers. The teenagers missed movie night and especially music, so when Sirius was available, he tinkered with every apparatus and attempted to make them work in a magical setting. He had done it with a motorcycle, so hopes were high. Theo couldn’t wait to start cooking the Muggle way again; Draco thought he was weird, but then again, he was still intimidated by the kitchen and the stupid fire sprinklers, so perhaps the Nott heir wasn’t that odd.

 

The motor of the blue moped sputtered and Draco parked in front of a small supermarket, removing his helmet and letting Harry play with his hair until it was no longer plastered to his scalp. Without his own helmet, the black-haired teen looked like something had exploded on his head. With his new square frameless glasses, longer hair and his growth spurt, his appearance made Draco’s knees go weak. The blonde had grown up as well and was still taller than Harry. Sometimes, Daphne and Millicent pretended to faint and batted their eyelashes at them because they knew it annoyed their friends. Too bad Blaise was back in Italy for the summer; he was allergic to these ridiculous displays and provided amusing reactions.

 

The couple walked side by side, hands brushing against each other, and browsed the aisles looking for snacks. This supermarket was the only shop selling a certain kind of dried fish that Kreacher adored. Sirius definitely didn’t understand why Draco would buy something for the aged House Elf.

 

The boy grabbed three packs and Harry readjusted his grip on the plastic basket. “You know he’s just going to hide those things inside Sirius’ shoes, right?”

 

“It’d make him happy.” Draco frowned at the ingredients listed on a can of soda, happy to understand Norwegian quite well to be able to stop buying things that could send him into an early grave. He still loved candy, but he now stuck with those created in the Wizarding World.

 

“Aw, look at you, caring so much for a House Elf’s well-being.”

 

With a smirk, the blonde winked playfully. “Your best friend doesn’t need any reason to punch me again. I am merely preparing myself to join S.P.E.W.”

 

“You’re buying Hermione’s respect? With dried cod?”

 

“I am a Slytherin.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and put a box of Earl Grey in the basket. Draco immediately put it back on the shelf and made a face. “Really, tea bags?”

 

“We’re out!”

 

“This is treason and you know it. Tea bags, honestly.”

 

“Have you seen your mother when she hasn’t had her tea in the morning?”

 

“Mother is a refined woman who will make you regret buying those things for the rest of your life. Loose leaf, thank you very much.”

 

With a wide gesture encompassing the packed shelves and small bakery, Harry looked at him expectantly and Draco let out a long sigh. “Very well, I see what you mean. Let’s go to the tea shop.” As soon as he said it, he cringed. “Merlin, no, forget I said that. I am not riding back to town at this hour.”

 

By the time they’d get there, traffic would be too stressful for a new rider. They’d have to go without Earl Grey for a day at the very least. How dreadful. He fought to keep his eyes open when Harry nuzzled the back of his neck and nipped at his skin, and he elbowed him in the ribs. “Not here.”

 

“Spoilsport.”

 

They paid for the fish and two fresh ham sandwiches, and spoke briefly with the cashier, Marie, a teenager with a prosthetic hand who liked to practice her English each time they shopped there. Draco was rather interested in the way Muggles treated disability, though he was trying not to be insensitive when he let himself ask questions. Admittedly, it was a rare occurrence. Marie bagged their purchases, thanked them and they went back outside, squinting in the bright sunlight.

 

They were on the road for twenty minutes before the wards around the hotel shimmered and let them in, and they stopped at the edge of the orchard bordering the entrance. With their helmets off once again, they walked among the trees and sat at a wooden table installed there around Easter. Hedwig landed near them and preened her feathers.

 

They unwrapped their sandwiches and ate quietly, sharing bits of ham with the owl. Harry ran the tip of his foot up and down Draco’s lower leg, and Draco thought about his luck, blushing like an idiot when his eyes met beautiful green irises.

 

He heard Sirius’ van faintly, the noise muffled by the trees. As much as he wanted to go greet his adoptive father who had been away with Dumbledore for a week, he also wished no one would come into their bubble right now. So, he finished his sandwich, took Harry’s hands and softly kissed his fingers over and over again.

 

“Well, well, well, aren’t they cute?”

 

He tightened his grip suddenly and Harry tried to get away. Turning around, Draco stared at the girl who had rudely interrupted them. Pansy had become a beautiful woman in the past year and looked quite sophisticated in her Muggle attire.

 

Granger’s hair was just as wild as ever, but she was growing into it, from what Draco could see before she launched herself at Harry with a squeal of delight and hugged him tight enough to make a twinge of jealousy flare within the blonde’s chest. He stomped on it thoroughly, stood up, and lightly kissed his best friend’s cheeks, holding her hands.

 

Pansy rolled her eyes, snatched her hands back and grabbed him in a headlock, messing with his hair until he begged for mercy. “You look like you have a stick up your arse. Didn’t you learn to be a functioning human being out here?”

 

When she let go of him, he tried to flatten his hair. “I’ll have you know that my greetings were entirely proper!”

 

“Shut up and hug me!”

 

He let himself be squeezed and berated once again for scaring her with his vanishing act, lack of letters and supposed death. He ducked when she attempted to hit him, but she still managed to kick his shin. Hissing in pain, he hurried back to Harry’s side. The other boy was looking at him with an amused smirk twisting his lips, free from Granger’s grasp.

 

He hesitated and met the girl’s gaze. “Granger.”

 

“Mal- Black.”

 

“I apologize for the slurs I threw at you in the past. It was cruel and uncalled for, and I hope you can forgive me.”

 

She held out her palm with a curt nod. “I understand and I forgive you, but don’t slip again.”

 

Draco steeled himself, shook her hand and finally smiled, Harry’s arm around his waist. He then Vanished the sandwiches wrapping and Granger (no, Hermione, he had to change his habits) stared at him in horror. “Why are you using magic outside of school?”

 

“This _is_ a school. Technically all I’m doing within the wards is completely legal.”

 

“What?”

 

“Let’s go inside,” Harry proposed.

 

“Harry James Potter, you have a lot of explaining to do!”

 

Hedwig landed on Draco’s shoulder and they walked towards the edge of the orchard. Harry took his helmet but didn’t put it on. “I’ll walk with them. See you in a minute?”

 

After making a show of kissing him deeply, the blonde straddled his moped, fastened his helmet under his chin and left the trio behind, riding towards the parking where Sirius’ van stood all by itself. The man was still outside and waved cheerfully.

 

“I thought they’d arrive later tonight,” Draco mused after a short embrace from his adoptive father.

 

“Tonks had some free time to Portkey us back here. How have you been? You’re tanned.”

 

“I’m almost always outside.”

 

The man smiled wistfully. “Aaah, I’ll get you a motorcycle when you’re older and then you’ll see that it’s even more addictive. Anyway, I’m starving. Where’s Harry?”

 

“Walking with the girls. Hopefully they don’t eat him alive. How was your little vacation with the Headmaster?”

 

Sirius shook himself like Padfoot and shuddered dramatically. “If I tell you your godfather was there for most of it, is that enough for you?”

 

It certainly wasn’t, but Draco understood the need for absolute secrecy and didn’t ask for more. They both made their way inside and Sirius went upstairs. Draco left his helmet on the small table near the entrance, stretched his back and called Kreacher, who cried in pure bliss when he received his dried fish. Toppy was next and he asked her to prepare some tea - sadly not Earl Grey - if they still had any that wasn’t an insult to his delicate sense of taste.

 

Millicent walked by, humming a song by Abba and wearing a hideous tank top with a hole on the side. She was helping Flitwick paint the walls on the upper floors and dressed to fit the activity. Through the open door of the lounge area, he spied the Greengrass sisters sprawled on the floor, playing with Cepheus and Hydrus under Narcissa’s watchful eyes. Theo was probably cooking or reading outside, and Terence most likely stayed in the infirmary since his Healer apprenticeship had already started.

 

Draco found himself wishing Susan would come back from her travels with her aunt soon; he liked ranting with her for hours on end about foolish things that usually garnered little attention from Harry. 

 

He greeted James Potter, who was wandering in a painting depicting longships resting on a rocky beach, and sent a quick spell at his hair to make himself more presentable.

 

“Oh my God, Harry, is that your father?”

 

Ah, just in time for Storm Granger. The bookworm ran towards the frame. Pansy noticed Millicent and dragged her away, talking so fast that Draco decided to focus on Harry.

 

The black-haired teen was excitedly explaining how the portrait had been found, almost giddy and completely relaxed. If possible, Draco fell even deeper in love with him at that moment.

 

 

***

 

 

Hermione’s first reaction upon seeing the van Sirius drove to the Portkey landing site had been one of complete bafflement. She was still trying to smother her thirst for exploration after their temporary stop in Wizarding St. Petersburg and was getting tired of being surprised.

 

The Wizarding World was so much bigger than she had ever imagined. When she had received her Hogwarts letter in September of 1990, she’d had a year to prepare herself before attending Hogwarts. Being eleven a few weeks after the school year had already started gave her a distinct advantage over people like Harry, who had just one month to get used to the idea.

 

She visited Diagon Alley more than once and read everything she could about the school. Hogwarts: A History was her first purchase and the Holy Grail of Wizarding Society. Or so she thought. Dating a girl from a Dark-aligned family with a long history had shown her she knew next to nothing and it hadn’t been a pleasant discovery.

 

She had made the mistake of believing she was dealing with people who merely had more abilities than Muggles and dwelt in a secretive society with barely any difference to her own. She had never considered that, while located in the same country, the British Wizarding World was a completely different culture. She had arrived stomping like an elephant with her habits and ideas, and had never, at any point, guessed that she might be offending people by acting like she knew everything when she, in fact, had barely scraped the surface.

 

It had been an uneasy wake-up call and she had been angry. Hogwarts: A History was no longer a valid source of information. It was biased and limited. It had useful parts, for sure, but it was Ministry-Approved and thus, as Pansy would say, a stinky pile of crap.

 

Now, Hermione wanted to bring in the good things of Muggle society - science, children and women’s rights and so much more. She had access to numerous sources through the members of the Defence Club, had spoken with many Purebloods, Half-Bloods and Muggleborns, Light and Dark, and found that they had several common goals. If they worked together, they could keep their good traditions alive and move forward at the same time. Their generation could change everything.

 

The first time she had learned that there were more than three magical schools in the world, she had felt like a complete idiot and had been consumed with righteous fury, amusing Pansy to no end. Now she knew there were many witches and wizards around the world and many different ways to learn, and Hogwarts had not been the best school for a very long time.

 

So, it was with a certain dizziness that she listened to Harry explain that no, he hadn’t been hiding here and twiddling his thumbs, but that the residents of the Tranquil Spire Hotel had actually built a school.

 

She was still shocked about seeing Draco ride a moped, but she could only gape and stare when her best friend broke the news. She and Pansy were sitting together in a gorgeous garden under a canopy, a white cat named Perseus purring at their feet. Theodore Nott had baked several different kinds of biscuits and had quickly disappeared after greeting them, supposedly because he was busy experimenting with food. Hermione was introduced to Daphne, Astoria and Millicent, since she barely knew them at all, and Harry poured them some tea.

 

“That’s just peach-flavoured green tea. We’re out of everything else,” he explained, smiling sheepishly.

 

“He wanted to buy tea bags! Ouch, Merlin, don’t pinch me!”

 

The bushy-haired girl snorted behind her palm, watching them in fascination. Who would have guessed they could ever be a couple? Pansy had known. Instinct, she had said, from the moment she had read the first letter signed with “Pronglet and Draco”.

 

She tried to get the conversation back on track because her curious mind was screaming. “You were saying something about your school?”

 

Harry nodded proudly, twisted his body around and pointed at the building close to the cliff. “Lilium School for Magic! Where we get core classes and spend way too much time in self-study and tutoring sessions.”

 

“You, Harry Potter, who chose Divination because it was an easy class, are actually studying of your own free will?”

 

“He learned from his numerous mistakes,” Draco said, running a hand in his boyfriend’s hair. “Besides, he’s almost done. Mister I-have-twenty-one-NEWTs.”

 

Millicent cackled. Hermione and Pansy looked at each other, frozen. A minute later, they both stood up as one, spilling tea all over the table and screeching loud enough to scare every bird lurking in the trees around them.

 

They demanded to see the results, stunned when Draco revealed he had a few NEWTs himself, and Hermione understood she was missing something as soon as she glanced at the parchment. Harry had never been dumb, but he wasn’t a dedicated learner either and rarely did his homework without asking her for help. Ron’s laziness, his upbringing - that he didn’t mention often, but hinted at enough to paint a nasty picture - and the weight of Wizarding Britain’s expectations from their Saviour could all be blamed for his lacklustre performance. Nobody ever bothered to teach him useful things either. He was a good example of why Muggleborns and Muggle-raised children needed to follow an introductory course on their new world.

 

Here, he was surrounded by people who enjoyed learning and he was free. It still didn’t explain how he could get a NEWT in Arithmancy though! Her confusion must have shown, because Harry and Draco spoke in hushed tones and she heard them mention that, as they were under a Fidelius, they could explain and neither Hermione nor Pansy would be able to discuss their secrets to an outsider.

 

She could never have guessed the truth behind Harry’s miraculous NEWTs scores. Pansy looked horrified, and Hermione had to be hugged and comforted until she could stop crying.

 

Later that day, alone in a nicely designed room, she struggled to fall asleep. She felt overwhelmed and hoped the next few weeks wouldn’t be so intense. She and Pansy would stay until the beginning of August, giving her plenty of time to discover the library and more importantly, enjoy her best friend’s company. She had never expected to like Draco, but he was quite frankly hilarious and cared deeply for Harry. Her friend was in good hands. She was looking forward to speaking with the blonde; he was, after all, the best student in Hogwarts aside from herself. Their other halves had already lamented over the fact that they would likely bond and never stop discussing books.

 

Indecisiveness tugged at Hermione regarding Lilium and Beauxbâtons. But as much as the miniature school tempted her, she still felt like the French establishment would be the better choice in the long run. Surely, having her exams accredited by such a highly reputable school would be helpful in the future.

 

She tossed and turned, and when she realised sleep would not come, she grabbed Harry’s Dark Arts textbook and started to learn something new.


	2. Runaways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little insight into how summer is going for Other People ;)

“Yaxley! For your sake, I hope you bring interesting news.”

 

The lifeless body of an unlucky Death Eater fell down the dais after a nudge from the Dark Lord’s naked foot. Severus listened to a boring political report and wondered which curse would hit the grey-haired man who hid behind a mask covered with carved vines. Their Lord wasn’t known for his patience and ever since Narcissa Malfoy escaped, his temper had caused five deaths within their ranks. He was just sane enough not to permanently maim anyone truly useful.

 

Yaxley avoided his wrath thanks to the generous financial donation that had granted him the Minister’s ear; Fudge had been delighted to accept his help and the Dark Lord had a new Lucius to further his plans within the government. It allowed him to stay hidden to plot in peace. But Severus saw that some witches and wizards, like Bellatrix, were getting restless, and it worried him. When his name was called, he reinforced his Occlumency shields and knelt down.

 

“My Lord.”

 

“What can you tell me about Hogwarts?”

 

Severus almost lost his composure in surprise. Voldemort rarely concerned himself with the school. Without Dumbledore or Potter, it seemed to be of no interest to him. “Dolores Umbridge is Headmistress and has hired new teachers, my Lord. The use of magic will be forbidden in class next year.”

 

Whispers broke out and Voldemort caressed his wand, frowning. “Do you know what she hopes to achieve?”

 

“I am unsure, my Lord.”

 

“What will I do with followers who cannot cast a simple hovering Charm, Severus?” His eyes glinted malevolently. 

 

Bellatrix clapped her hands excitedly, not bothering to hide herself behind a mask. “My Lord, I will kill her for you!”

 

The smile she received in return made the Potions Master shudder in disgust, though he wasn’t averse to the crazy witch’s idea. 

 

“My dear Bella, now is not the time yet. Do not worry, you shall have your fun soon enough. Severus, find a way to teach your students but do not endanger your position. I will not let Hogwarts become a theoretical school. Do you know who was hired?”

 

“Adeline Parkinson, Wilbert Slinkhard, Percival Weasley and a Ministry employee. Runcorn, I believe, my Lord.”

 

While he escaped the Cruciatus this time, Pansy’s mother did not, having forgotten to inform him of her new position as the Care of Magical Creature teacher. Severus made a note to tell Pansy that coming back to Hogwarts might not be in her best interests this year.

 

The Dark Lord launched himself into a passionate speech to hear the sound of his own voice, mentioning Narcissa, the loss of the Muggleborn registry and his plans to draw Potter out of hiding. Sadly, he did not go into details, but Severus could at least warn Albus. Under no circumstances should Potter come back to the United Kingdom.

 

Yaxley was given the task of pushing for more laws benefiting their Lord, while Rodolphus Lestrange and Gaius Goyle were asked to stay behind.

 

Severus left Malfoy Manor and Apparated to his childhood home in Spinner’s End to get rid of his Death Eater garbs, then Flooed to his office and busied himself with a new batch of Skele-gro, waiting for a reply to the Patronus he sent to Albus. 

 

 

***

 

 

_ Moony, _

 

_ Do I have to come back and kick some sense into you, or are you going to accept that you are NOT a monster and that SHE DOES NOT CARE! _

 

_ I’ve reinstated her mother into the Black Family. If you don’t move your pretty little arse, I’m drafting a marriage contract between you two.  _

 

_ Don’t make me do it! _

 

_ Pads _

 

_ P.S: I know what Pronglet’s Animagus form is and I’m not telling you if you don’t date her. He has been instructed not to tell you either.  _

 

 

***

 

 

_ Dear Adrian, _

 

_ There’s so much I can’t talk to you about and it’s annoying but this, I can speak of. I am officially in an apprenticeship! I’m hoping to get a Healer Mastery. _

 

_ Things are still great over here, but I must have done something to piss off Susan. Not sure what. I’d ask for your advice but if you really just dated Ginny Weasley for a week to annoy her brother, I’m not sure you’re the best option. Seriously though, was that her idea? Because it’s stupid, but kind of funny. _

 

_ Susan is away on vacation, so I’m studying. Yes, in the summer, I know. I don’t want to stand around and do nothing when I can progress in my learning.  _

 

_ Anyway, for what you asked for, the name is Nymphadora Tonks. She’s an Auror - but it’s better if you don’t send her an owl at the Ministry. _

 

_ See you soon, hopefully. _

 

_ Terence _

 

 

***

 

 

Adrian Pucey couldn’t stop fidgeting. His leg bounced under the table and while he tried to keep his face neutral, he didn’t fool anybody. He was a wreck. His eyes darted to Evander Vaisey, who looked small and exhausted on the couch next to Warrington’s burly frame. Both were discussing the latest stunt by Gwenog Jones but their words rang empty when all they could think about was the presence of a distraught Victoria Goyle in the next room. Her son was talking with Adrian’s father in low tones, head bowed. Adrian had often thought that Crabbe and Goyle were attached to Malfoy’s hip and wouldn’t survive without him, but while Crabbe had turned into a nasty piece of work, his friend showed that he was more than a troll in a human’s body. He would never work at the Ministry, get a Mastery, or read a complicated novel, but he was quite fun to be around and had managed to date Lavender Brown. She wasn’t the smartest girl in school, but certainly one of the prettiest. Adrian was still impressed today, months later.

 

The Pucey family owned a townhouse in Brighton and a farmhouse in Essex. After the Hogwarts Express reached King’s Cross almost a month ago, Adrian went home with Cassius, who knew exactly what would be waiting for him as soon as he passed through the door of his parents’ manor. To their surprise, Adrian’s father asked them to Floo to Essex and stay there.

 

Goblin wards had been added to the farmhouse. It was no longer a disused vacation home hosting memories of Adrian’s early childhood, but a place where Cassius could hide. The Slytherin Chaser decided to stay with him because he wouldn’t leave a friend alone, and his parents chose to spend the summer at the farmhouse to protect them both. They could just Floo or Apparate to work.

 

Cassius had a routine. In the morning, he wrote to Daphne Greengrass (still bewildered that she didn’t wish to dissolve their contract), before taking care of the brand new tattoo on his left forearm, a Phoenix that he had gotten at a Muggle parlour as a slight to the Dark Lord. Then, he read the new edition of _ Quidditch Today _ , polished his broom and finally, tried to enjoy his vacations. They weren’t close friends so didn’t spend too much time together, but flying their brooms were a daily activity. 

 

Within a week, Evander had joined them both, newly orphaned. His parents, whose best friends were Lord and the long-lost Lady Yaxley, had been visited by Death Eaters after refusing to support the Dark Lord’s cause. Evander had been away with a friend and escaped death because he had been late coming home. The tragic event was covered up; nothing appeared in the  _ Prophet _ . Adrian’s mother, a Mind-Healer, took a leave of absence to ensure the child would have someone with him through his grief. He was just twelve years old.

 

And now, Madam Goyle was hoping to save her son.

 

Following Terence’s recommendation, Adrian had contacted the pink-haired Auror. She had shown up with none other than Remus Lupin, whose lessons he remembered fondly. Together, they had discussed the options the teenagers had. The living room table was covered in brochures for other schools and employment prospects, and the boys knew one thing: they were leaving.

 

Adrian’s mother, Madam Goyle, Tonks and Lupin eventually resurfaced from their meeting behind closed doors. Greg was hugged by his crying mum, who told him to be good and that she was proud of him.

 

“She’s leaving?” Evander asked.

 

Lupin nodded and the young boy rubbed his eyelids. 

 

“Mums shouldn’t leave.”

 

“I agree. Madam Pucey is trying to convince her.”

 

Adrian’s heart ached and he silently thanked Cassius for offering to teach Evander Quidditch tricks to bury his dark thoughts. 

 

With the youngest and oldest boys gone outside, he listened to his parents, his ex-DADA teacher and the Auror. 

 

He learned that the Black fortune was behind the help they were being offered. After hearing tales about the escaped Lord Black all year during club meetings, he imagined that none other than Harry Potter was behind this.

 

He would go to Norway with his parents, Greg and Evander. Cassius wanted to move to Bulgaria, where he could learn to be a Quidditch coach from some of the very best (his personal vault would be quite useful in this endeavour, as Adrian doubted he would want to use money belonging to someone else. Cassius struck him as someone who didn’t accept charity). However, Adrian had an inkling that he would end up fighting the Dark Lord instead. He was sporting a tattoo of Dumbledore’s pet, after all. 

 

He idly asked himself how many students would attend Hogwarts if everyone he knew ran away.

 

 

***

 

 

_ Padfoot, _

 

_ She’s too young. _

 

_ Moony _

 

 

***

 

 

_ Moony, _

 

_ Now you’re just making excuses. _

 

_ Yes, this is a post-it. Handy little thing. Perfect to deliver short messages to tell you I AM NOT HAVING IT. _

 

_ Pads _

 

 

***

 

 

_ Padfoot, _

 

_ Did you tell her something? _

 

_ Anything? _

 

_ She knows, and I’m blaming you! I can’t believe you would do this to me! _

 

_ Moony _

 

 

***

 

 

_ Moony, _

 

_ HA. _

 

_ Pads _

 


	3. July 31st

“And this, darling, is Frank. Your big brother did something very, very stupid and suddenly, Frank was born. Which is why you should always use protecti-” Harry ducked to dodge the muffin Draco threw at him.

 

“If you finish this sentence, Potter, I swear I’ll hex you.”

 

He snickered and kissed Cepheus’ small nose, holding him close and watching Draco with a growing sense of amusement. The baby squealed, joined by his twin who was being tickled by Theo.

 

Frank was the name the teenagers had chosen for the Conjured cloud that just would not go away. It inspired Millicent, who invented stories about it and might eventually write children’s books if she continued. Hermione approved, and Pansy and Astoria both thought everyone had gone mad.

 

It was late in the afternoon of a sunny day, just warm enough to be comfortable wearing bathing suits. Muggle ones. Harry still remembered the Purebloods’ expressions at the sight of bikinis a year ago. The skimpiest swimsuit they had seen until then had been Fleur’s one-piece for the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament.

 

Everyone, including the adults, was enjoying the weather. Blankets had been laid out on the largest rocks at the bottom of the cliff. Kreacher, Mopsy and Toppy had brought tea and pastries and stayed nearby to take care of the infants if needed. Narcissa was resting on a long chair, under a parasol, dressed in a light summer dress that revealed more of her skin than she was used to.

 

Sirius, as Padfoot, was playing in the water, splashing Terence and Millicent who complained that the water was too cold. Pansy was attempting to get a tan with her head in Hermione’s lap; the Muggleborn was reading a large book title Magical Plants of Norway. Draco, who had a sunburn on his shoulders and had to reapply the protection ointment five times, was glaring at Frank, and sometimes at Harry, but the black-haired teen knew it was just because Frank’s constant presence was a reminder of his failure to find a way to Vanish it.

 

Crowfeet and Flitwick discussed Goblin Healing and the babies were making cute noises. Harry couldn’t get enough of them and held them as much as he could.

 

They both had a lot of hair for their age. Hydrus’ was the typical white-blond of the Malfoys and looked like dandelion fluff, but Cepheus’ was black and curly, and his skin wasn’t as pale. Those who knew whose blood ran through his veins wondered how Salazar Slytherin had looked when he wasn’t a horrible and cranky portrait that seemed to have been painted by someone who held a grudge against him and was determined to prove to the world that he was the incarnation of evil. He might have been. Or not.

 

To Harry, anything would be fine as long as he didn’t take after Riddle, otherwise, he would have trouble looking at him without needing quite a bit of therapy. It would not happen, of course, though the curly hair had thrown him off at first.

 

He ran his fingers through the child’s locks, glancing at Hermione and having a hard time believing she was actually here. And dating Pansy Parkinson. In a very non-mushy way, which made him self-conscious sometimes - before he remembered that Draco loved him enough to act like a complete fool, and he decided he was perfectly happy being emotional and sweet in public.

 

When Hydrus started fussing, Theo brought him to Narcissa who erected a Privacy Shield, then he went for a swim. Draco shuffled over to Harry, laying his head on his shoulder and gently touching his brother’s hand, which closed around his finger. The baby watched him with those big eyes that made Harry’s heart melt.

 

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Pansy drawled, barely moving her head while Hermione nodded sagely.

 

“If I was still angry with Ron, I’d take a picture of you right now and send it to him.”

 

Harry was glad to be holding a baby right now because it prevented him from tensing up, but his smile dropped slightly.

 

Draco kissed him to bring it back. “You’ll be okay. I can stay here if you want.”

 

He shook his head. Tomorrow was his birthday and Sirius had arranged a day with the Weasleys in St. Petersburg. All he could think about was how they would react to Draco, and what to do about it. Should they pretend to be friends? It was the wisest option. Perhaps they could just say he was someone else? He wasn’t a mini-Lucius anymore but Ron, Ginny and the twins would still recognise him.

 

Pansy lifted her sunglasses. “I, for one, will gladly stay, but I hope Hermione tells me all about it. I _live_ for drama.”

 

“You _are_ drama.”

 

“Draco dearest, you did not just say that. You were _born_ Queen of Drama. You _rule_ the Drama Kingdom. I just watch and enjoy the show.”

 

“I do not _rule_ the-! You’re the worst.”

 

Harry and Hermione both raised an eyebrow and cracked up. The boy hoped that soon, Ron would be there too, laughing with them without calling Draco a ferret, and without being called a weasel. Well, that part was probably easier; there was no way his boyfriend would use that word in a derogatory way when it was his Animagus form.

 

A rather nasty whiff went through his nose and he stood up to go change Cepheus’ diaper. He didn’t like letting the House-Elves doing it constantly. But Draco rolled his eyes at him and tugged at the bottom of his shorts. “You’re not seriously walking all the way back up these stairs to change him, right?”

 

“Er-”

 

“Harry Potter must give Master Cepheus to Mopsy.”

 

“No, I can do it myself.”

 

“Mopsy is needing to change Master Cepheus now.”

 

With a sigh, he let her take the baby, then looked at Kreacher who was wringing his hands nearby. “Do you all enjoy changing nappies that much?”

 

“Harry Potter Sir is not understanding. Kreacher knows. There is being a contest. Mopsy be keeping score.”

 

“Score of what?”

 

“Which baby has peed on Mopsy the most whilst being changed. Master Draco is being in the lead with forty-”

 

Still sitting on the blanket, Draco gasped in outrage. “Kreacher, stop talking, NOW!”

 

Harry’s eyes widened and shone with mirth.

 

“Master Draco ought to be proud of his early achievements in life.”

 

“That is not an achievement!”

 

Kreacher stepped back slowly, hunched over, and mumbled something about preparing a trophy for the winner once Hydrus and Cepheus didn’t need diapers anymore, then popped away with the blonde baby that Narcissa had finished feeding. Draco groaned in dismay, and Harry thought everyone who had heard the Elf was about to die of laughter. Himself was wheezing and crying so much that Sirius turned back into a human and came over to see what was going on.

 

With her usual poise, Narcissa declared that she had pictures, and Draco pretended to go drown in the sea.

 

 

***

 

 

Harry boxed the third wand he had been working on this week and placed it on the shelf next to the portrait, whose occupants were napping. He cleaned his workspace, Vanished the wood shavings from the floor and removed his glasses to clean them.

 

Hermione ran her fingers on the boxes. “I just can’t believe you’re doing this. It’s- Harry, I don’t have words right now!”

 

“Really?” He laughed and checked the time. The Portkey to Russia would activate around lunch, so he had spent the morning in his workshop to relax, and his best friend had naturally been fascinated by everything he was doing.

 

She gripped his shoulder and smiled brightly. “I’m angry that Hogwarts was impairing your creativity, but I’m so, so glad to see you thrive. I’ve never seen you so happy. Will you be apprenticing to a wandmaker?”

 

Harry chewed on his lower lip. He hated being assertive; Hermione sometimes made him doubt himself and this time, he knew he was right, and he didn’t want to hear her criticise his decisions. He also felt guilty for distrusting her. When the silence became too heavy, he sighed and looked straight at her. “I won’t. I _am_ a wandmaker.”

 

“But- don’t you need to get certified?”

 

“I would if I was following someone else’s method. This is my own. I don’t want to be the next Ollivander.” Seeing that she was about to protest, he raised a hand. “I’m providing wands to Ministry employees in Oslo. They’ve been examined and I was given official approval to continue. After Voldemort dies, I’ll open up a shop somewhere, because that’s what I want to do, and because I’m good at it and I don’t need to be anyone’s apprentice to know that.”

 

He froze and lowered his gaze, his cheeks burning. Ten seconds later, Hermione hugged him. “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry. I have a thing for exams and schools and following proper procedures, that’s why I’m going to Beauxbâtons in September. But Harry? You have no idea how proud you just made me!” She stepped back but kept her hands on his upper arms. “You’ll do great.”

 

He felt like the weight of the world had just lifted from his shoulders. How lucky was he, to have a friend like her in his life? He truly had missed her.

 

Now, he was slightly less scared of facing Ron.

 

“Come on,” the girl pushed him towards the door. “Your boyfriend and my girlfriend shouldn’t be left on their own for too long. Who knows what mess they’ll get into.”

 

“Worse than we did?”

 

“It depends, are you hiding a Philosopher’s Stone in the basement?”

 

“No, but we have someone who is so powerful that she can tear the sky apart, so, really, who knows.”

 

“Wait, how? Who?”

 

“Astoria. You should talk to her. She’s an anomaly. Worse than me having Voldy’s memories.”

 

“You kept this from me?”

 

He snorted, his right arm looped with her left. Perhaps he could convince her to join Lilium if he kept telling her about what was going on.

 

 

***

 

 

Teeth, or the furry version of Draco, was inside the left pocket of Harry’s robes. Harry’s fingers scratched him and his instincts were to either bite them or let his tiny brain be flooded by bliss. Sometimes, he thought he could live his entire life in this form if he had someone to shower him with attention. But afterwards, he was hit by an impulse and remembered that his human-self was much more dignified.

 

Seriously, who chewed on _books_?

 

Also, who tried digging a hole into someone’s pocket? Him, apparently. He stopped and focused on the voices around him instead. He knew they had stopped at the apothecary where Harry got the weirdest cores for his wands because it smelled like Teeth’s worst nightmare in there, and he also knew they just went past the bakery and were no longer outside. He grabbed the edge of the pocket and peeked.

 

Hermione, Sirius and Harry were going up the stairs in what looked like a hotel. They stopped in front of a wooden door and Sirius cancelled the Glamour on each of them. Teeth almost chickened out but in the end, decided to keep his head out of the pocket.

 

The sea of Weasley was quite interesting to witness. He almost got squished to death by Molly’s arms, so he escaped the pocket, scampered up Harry’s back and grabbed onto the fabric of his robes to stay on his shoulder.

 

“Harrikins, dear friend, you have-”

 

“-A ferocious beast on your shoulder.”

 

Teeth’s head rose. Ferocious beast indeed. The twins had just gained his approval. He spotted Charlie, who stared at him like he knew exactly who hid under his soft fur, and the Weaselette, who couldn’t stop ranting about Umbridge.

 

He jumped on the nearest piece of furniture to observe his surroundings and found out that this was no ordinary hotel room. It had been enlarged, there was a table with a feast and enough seats for everyone, and a pile of gifts in the corner. He thought about his own gift, waiting in the bedroom, and hoped Perseus didn’t decide it would be fun to destroy it. His cat was a menace when he wanted to be.

 

“Mate, why did you get a ferret?”

 

He hissed and stood on his hind legs. Trust Ronald for being unable to distinguish the difference. Harry scooped him up, kissed his neck and Teeth narrowed his eyes at the redhead. “He’s a weasel, actually. Ron, meet Teeth.”

 

“Did you miss me that much?”

 

Harry’s right eyebrow rose slightly. “Are you admitting that you’re a weasel?”

 

Hermione and Ginevra cackled as Ron sputtered indignantly. Then, Teeth was given to Hermione, and Harry dragged his oldest friend away for what Teeth guessed was the awkward part of the conversation. Well, one of them. There was no way the “boyfriend” topic was being brought up right now, as much as he wanted to turn back into himself. He hoped being there was enough support. Oh, and Hermione’s hair was really fun to play with. It was frizzy and thick and messy and he could burrow into it and make a nest and- erm. No. Draco Sirius Black did not build _nests_. How ridiculous.

 

When Harry and Ron came back, they were laughing and the green-eyed teen seemed relieved. Everyone was directed towards the table by the matriarch, who ensured her daughter would be sitting with Harry, and Ron with Hermione.

 

_Good luck with that plan, witch!_

 

Since he was aware that Ginevra was crushing on his boyfriend or at least the image she had of him, for most of her life, he paid close attention to her reaction. And she looked mortified. Sirius, sitting between Fred and Charlie, appeared rather amused by the situation but quickly turned his attention to the Dragonologist, listening with rapt attention as he discussed the differences between the Norwegian and Romanian reserves and how Dragons lived in both places. Teeth was intrigued and thanked his excellent hearing for allowing him to eavesdrop.

 

“Harry, dear, are you sure you should allow your… pet… to stay on the table?”

 

Teeth bristled.

 

“Don’t worry, Madam Weasley, he’s very clean.”

 

“Alright dear, but let’s make sure he doesn’t touch the food. Now, dig in! I’m sure you miss good, earthy meals. I arranged to have access to the kitchens here. You never know what you’re eating when you’re abroad and it’s never as good as what you can get in my kitchen. Oh, I wish Sirius hadn’t dragged you all the way to Russia.”

 

Teeth licked Harry’s hand when he saw it twitch. “I happen to like discovering new flavours, but I did miss your cooking.”

 

“Oh, Harry, sweetie, thank you!”

 

Wondering if she was always acting this way, Teeth struggled not to transform and tell her exactly what she was missing by thinking Shepherd's Pie was more praise-worthy than, say, crispy duck pancakes. He also made a note to travel all over the world with Harry after the Dark Lord’s defeat, so he could sample authentic cuisine everywhere. And out of spite, he would send pictures of themselves enjoying the food to Molly Weasley.

 

Harry poked him in the ribs. _Oops._ The weasel had shredded the Snitch-shaped napkin in front of him.

 

“Where did you find him anyway?” Ron asked. “He’s a bit destructive.”

 

“‘S alright, he’s very cuddly and adorable, I can deal with his mood swings. I love him.”

 

Teeth blinked slowly. Merlin, he wanted to kiss this boy.

He behaved though and suffered through the meal which smelled delicious. Molly kept making subtle allusions to Sirius’ behaviour, how crazy it had been to just run away with Harry instead of staying safely at Grimmauld Place. She worried for the boy’s schooling, said he needed some good influences in his life, and after several failed attempts to change the subject, from everyone, Harry was trembling.

 

Charlie cleared his throat just as Teeth was imagining the damage he could do to Molly’s face if she didn’t stop.

 

“Mum, I think we’ve heard enough.”

 

“Oh, Charlie, you should know that Harry needs a responsible adult in his life-”

 

“Sirius IS a responsible adult! He’s Lord Black, and he’ll sit on the Wizengamot when he’s cleared, and just because he’s not married doesn’t mean he can’t take care of a teenager! Now, please stop talking before you ruin Harry’s birthday any more than you already did!”

 

Vindicated, Teeth inwardly cheered on him, then on the twins, Ron, Hermione and Ginevra - Ginny - who made sure to be loud and cheerful and told stories destined to make Harry forget that he had been was about to walk out. Arthur took his wife outside, Sirius left his seat and placed a hand on Harry’s head. And Teeth couldn’t wait any longer.

 

He jumped down from the table and turned back. Because Harry’s birthday wouldn’t be ruined by insensitive comments.  

 

Silence fell. Draco shook his head, messing up his hair artfully, then smirked at Ginny. “Hi. May I please sit by my boyfriend’s side?”

 

Wide-eyed, she gasped and nodded, taking the next empty chair, and Harry started laughing. Draco kissed him. “I love you too, and you’re also cuddly and adorable.”

 

“Oh shit, Hermione, I think I’m dreaming! Mum can stop planning my wedding!” Ginny squealed. “Not that I don’t think you’re fit, Harry, but no. Just no.” Her youngest brother made a high-pitched noise before Hermione punched his arm.

 

Draco glared at him, daring him to say anything. Fred and George congratulated them on the best prank of the year, Sirius and Charlie decided that the coast was clear and continued discussing Dragons, and Harry finally relaxed with Draco’s arm around his waist.

 

Ginny served him a plate. It tasted fantastic and Ron refrained from making any sort of comment. Molly and Arthur came back, apologised profusely, and when they saw him, Draco knew this would be the moment Sirius proved to the woman that he was not only responsible enough to care for his godson but for his adoptive son too.

 

Draco respected Molly for giving Harry the love he didn’t have as a child. That was the extent of his gratitude; if she said anything else, she would remember that he had been a Malfoy until recently.

 

 

***

 

 

_Mate,_

 

_Mum is really sorry. She cried all evening and I think Sirius really got through to her this time. She’s just worried. Well, Bill and Charlie are proof that she’s too much, so…_

 

_Anyway, really, TEETH? WHY?!_

 

_I didn’t say anything because I didn’t need you to be mad at me. But he’s not a Malfoy anymore, right? I mean, he said some nasty stuff in the past. Hermione’s right though. If you can forgive him, I can too. One day._

 

_I still don’t like him._

 

_Hope we didn’t mess up your birthday. It was great to see you again and I liked Russia. Charlie said you’re not living there but if you go back, do you think you could send me one of those vatrushka thing under a stasis spell? It was sooo good! Swear I could eat those until I burst._

 

_I saw Nev today and gave him the wand. It'll be very useful for the Defence Club! He’s hiding it from his grandmother._

 

_See you soon!_

 

_Ron_


	4. Meetings and Followers

Summer went on peacefully in the isolated piece of land harbouring the fugitives. Narcissa was feeling better every day and had started to smile genuinely once more, though she still missed the time when Lucius was acting like a relatively decent person and cared for her. She mourned the man she had married. The one who imprisoned her was not her husband.

 

Hydrus and Cepheus often started what Draco was convinced was a competition to find out who could laugh the loudest and he thanked Merlin that they didn’t choose to do that with tears.

 

Hermione was studying as though she’d have NEWTs to pass in a week; the Beauxbâtons Deputy Headmaster, who was Fleur Delacour’s father, had agreed to let her skip a grade and enter Seventh Year after seeing her OWLs results and a sample of her essays. Everyone knew she was more than capable, and Professor McGonagall had sent a recommendation to the French establishment. Terence sometimes joined her in the library, and they worked on assignments well into the night.

 

Daphne’s letters to Cassius delighted her father, a frequent visitor, who guessed he hadn’t destroyed his daughter’s life if she was so gladly communicating with her future husband. The contract had been modified to allow full equality between spouses. Lord Greengrass made a point to see his children every week and support Astoria as she spent half her time in the Department of Mysteries in Oslo with Professor Flitwick, and the other half talking with Ignotus Peverell’s portrait.

 

Blaise sent weekly postcards from Italy; he was traveling around, showing the sights to the Muggleborn Luca Caruso and his father, who seemed to have ensnared his mother. Susan had sent a single letter for everyone when she was in Argentina, and she was now back in Norway with her aunt, who had granted the teens’ wishes by helping Sirius with the mix of electricity and magic.

 

The telly was working again. To celebrate, Sirius had bought the first two Alien movies, resulting in Draco’s inability to sleep in the dark for days. He, Harry, Pansy and Millicent had a new role-model and her name was Ripley.

 

Theo, aloof and quiet as ever, was delighted to cook the Muggle way again, and when the fifteenth of August came, he prepared a feast to welcome a few new arrivals among them: Pucey, Vaisey, and Katie Bell.  Adrian’s parents stayed behind, their home, now under Fidelius, an unspoken safe-house for wayward children or victims of Death Eaters. No one said it, but everyone knew they were now part of the Order.

 

Goyle, who needed structure and would never make it to NEWTs with self-study, would be continuing his education at Ilvermorny. Draco wasn’t sure what to feel about it. They were childhood friends, but he hadn’t treated him well and yet, Goyle had always been loyal. He wished he would come to Norway, so he could apologise in person and perhaps start over.

 

Sirius declined a mission from Dumbledore to take care of Evander Vaisey, who needed a parental figure when he broke down or woke up in tears. The Azkaban escapee discovered that he was rather good at comforting a child - because even if he was twelve, Evander was still very young and didn’t have the same life experiences as Harry, who had been forced to be independent too soon. He had lost a mother and father who had coddled him and adored him, and he was drowning.

 

It became an untold rule that he shouldn’t be left alone, and everyone tried to distract him. And just went it looked like he was getting better, a letter from his godfather, Lord Yaxley, offering his condolences for his loss, erased all progress they had made. As if Evander didn't know his godfather's associates were behind the murder.

 

A few days later, Sirius was informed that Dumbledore had gone to search for a Horcrux alone, and for the first time in a year, he went back to London for a meeting.

 

 

***

 

 

After a lengthy discussion about nameless spies within the Ministry and the need to be more careful with Floo travel and calls, Sirius’ eye twitched when Dumbledore’s sleeve rolled up and revealed necrosed flesh.

 

“Albus, what in the name of Merlin were you _thinking_?” Moody snapped, glaring at the blackened skin.

 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as a peaceful smile stretched his lips. “Alas, I have made a small mistake and am paying the price. It is of no importance.”

 

Severus gave a little snort and Sirius wondered if the old man had finally lost it. Beside him, Adrian Pucey’s parents exchanged a worried glance, and Moody huffed.

 

“Severus has kindly stopped the curse’s progression and there is nothing to worry about,” the Headmaster said.

 

“You might want to cut your hand off, Albus. Your blood will be poisoned, if it isn’t already.”

 

“Unfortunately, this is something I need to avoid. The condition of my arm must not reach Voldemort’s ears.” He looked at the members of the Order one by one, peeking above his glasses. “It could change the outcome of the war.”

 

Sirius cringed and tried not to yell at him. Hadn’t he learned by now that doing things alone was ridiculous? Why hadn’t he told anyone?

 

Not all members knew about the Horcruxes and he understood the need to keep it that way, but he had a few words to tell him after the meeting. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about declining the mission, now convinced that if he had been there, Albus wouldn’t have acted so recklessly.

 

Minerva pursed her lips in obvious disapproval. “I hope you’ll Glamour it or wear gloves, in that case. It would take one Death Eater sympathiser to report it, and you could still be seen. You are not hiding that well recently.”

 

“I also fear the situation is worse,” the Potions Master interrupted, frowning. “As I’ve told you last week, Albus, the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher is Lady Parkinson, and more of His followers are out in the open.”

 

Murmurs broke out, and were only silenced when Bill Weasley took a seat, apologising for his lateness and looking decidedly sick. His freckles stood up in stark contrast with his pale face. Severus sneered at him. “I would have thought that Goblins frowned upon tardiness and would have taught their employees to be on time.”

 

Bill’s expression turned murderous. “Goblins also require their employees to attend meetings.” He gripped the handle of the mug his mother placed before him. “One word of advice: get your money out of Gringotts immediately.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Hestia asked.

 

“As of fifteen minutes ago, every non-Goblin employee no longer has a job-”

 

“Oh, Bill, I’m so sorry! Does that mean you’re coming home?”

 

“Mum, not now. As I said, we were not given a reason for it, but they have been restless for several months.”

 

Sirius nodded, partially lost in thought. “I’ve withdrawn the content of the Potter and Black vaults last year and moved them to the Arctic Dwarven Vaults. Bill, you might want to look for a job with them.”

 

He perked up. “Really? Where are they located?”

 

“In every magical settlement above the Arctic Circle. They don’t make jewellery and fancy weapons, they’re more practical, so they didn’t have the same appeal than the Goblins back when Ancient and Noble wizards drafted the contract for Gringotts.”

 

Molly seemed to want to incinerate Sirius on the spot, but was cut off by Doge, who laughed and announced that the Goblins wouldn’t dare part a wizard from his money. This resulted in sheer disbelief from most magicians around the table, and Dedalus Diggle stood up, Kingsley following close behind. “I’m not taking chances. Albus, may we be excused?”

 

“Yes. We should all keep an eye on the situation at Gringotts, but it is wise to prepare for the worst scenario. I believe we should meet again next Saturday, if there is nothing else?”

 

Sirius watched as a bunch of nervous Order members made their way outside. Arthur and Molly left with them - they might not have much money, but they couldn’t afford to lose what little gold they did own. Bill, Remus and Tonks stayed behind, and Sirius offered a shot of Firewhiskey to the newly unemployed ginger.

 

“So, dwarves.”

 

Remus nodded. “Nice fellows.”

 

“They’re not crooks, as far as I know,” Sirius agreed. “They mingle in societies that don’t shun non-Humans, and I’ve been in a drinking contest with them once.” He grimaced. “No idea how I got home.”

 

“They’d value your skills,” Tonks added, smirking, and edging closer to Remus. “And I’m sure they wouldn’t mind hiring a certain Miss Delacour either.”

 

Sirius barked a laugh at the vivid red that overtook the younger man’s face and made his ears look like ripe tomatoes.   

 

He pretended he hadn’t seen the brush of Remus’ fingers against Tonks’ hand even if the urge to tease his friend was strong. “Gringotts is reacting to Filius’ dismissal?”

 

“It was a direct slight against them from the Ministry. If he had been fired by anyone else, I doubt it would have gone so far, but Umbridge is different. What she does is approved by Fudge. We can only hope it doesn’t degenerate.”

 

They all downed their shot.

 

“We don’t need a bloody Goblin rebellion,” Tonks muttered.

 

“It could cut off Voldy’s finances. Can’t wage war without money.”

 

“We can only hope.”

 

 

***

 

 

_GRINGOTTS IMPOSES WITHDRAWAL LIMIT_

_by Rita Skeeter_

 

_As of today, August 18th, it is no longer possible to withdraw more than a hundred Galleons a month. Yes, fellow witches and wizards, the Goblins are holding our money hostage! For what, I ask? This reporter intends to find out._

 

_According to the Goblin Liaison Office, automatic payments such as rent are not impacted, and the situation is fully under control. Gringotts is testing common features from Muggle banks and everything will be back to normal soon._

 

_If you wanted to buy your child a Firebolt, this reporter can only hope you had money hidden at home. Stay tuned, dear readers, for more details once they reveal themselves to your favourite journalist!_

 

 

***

 

 

Rabastan Lestrange had joined the Dark Lord as a young, angry man fighting the torment of depression. He considered he had nothing to lose; if he could make his brother proud, it would be worth it. He had always had an unhealthy obsession with Rodolphus and had been jealous of all those who gained his attention in one way or another. His brother took care of him, in a family lacking warmth and worshipping the Dark Arts.

 

He had been a fragile child, suppressing his magic for too long because in his sleep, he saw it take the form of long, thin tendrils choking him. He remembered the walls of St. Mungo’s with something akin to fondness, because they protected him from the toxicity of his home.

 

When he was deemed healthy enough to leave, he encountered severe neglect. He was the second son, the spare, and he was too weak to be of any use. This was a frighteningly common occurrence in old Pureblood families.

 

He clung to Rodolphus and became a good little follower for whoever granted him the slightest hint of attention. His brother was a cruel being with those of lesser status, so Rabastan knew what to do to gain his approval.

 

He murdered his first Muggle at sixteen to fit in and basked in Rodolphus’ pride. They stuck together through their parents’ death, through Rodolphus’ wedding to the personification of madness, through their initiation in the Death Eaters. Rabastan made it to the Inner Circle with enough blood on his hands to warrant the Dementor’s Kiss if the Ministry had not preferred to let his rot in Azkaban, but if there was one thing he had never done, it was playing with his food. He killed because the filth was in his way and had no interest in keeping them alive more than necessary.

 

Rabastan was a murderer but in a way, he was merciful. His sister-in-law enjoyed torture to a frightening degree and Rodolphus loved humiliating his victims. Rabastan didn’t care. Screams annoyed him. If it had been up to him, the Longbottoms would be dead.

 

He was efficient and ruthless, and favoured the Killing Curse or neat, clean Cutting Hexes. A sliced neck was much better than various organs expelled from a body, after all. He disliked messy deaths.

 

Everything he did was for Rodolphus. Not honour, not Blood Purity, not the Dark Lord.

 

Azkaban didn’t turn him into a drooling mess or a male version of Bellatrix for one reason only: he had no happy thoughts for the Dementors to feed on. And when Rodolphus was asked to stay behind at the last Death Eater meeting and granted a secret mission he refused to talk about, his mind went blank with pure rage.

 

They were a team. It was bad enough that ickle Bella thought it necessary to tag along, but how dare the Dark Lord separate him from his older brother?

 

In the afternoon of September 1st, the Mark burned. As Rabastan made his way into the ballroom of Malfoy Manor, he took note of a flicker of irritation on Snape’s face, who didn’t bother hiding under a mask - no doubt the man had been busy preparing for the students’ arrival - and of the nervousness of his brother.

 

Anguish crept up his spine.

 

He bowed for the Dark Lord and waited.

 

“Rodolphus! Report.”

 

His brother kneeled and his voice shook. “My Lord, please forgive me. Potter’s family was not at home and there is no trace of twins being born in any Wizarding hospital-”

 

“Are you making excuses for your inability to find a bunch of Muggles and a baby, Rodolphus?”

 

There was a dangerous edge to the Dark Lord’s voice and Rabastan shivered.

 

“I have learned that the Dursleys were away on holidays.”

 

“Fascinating. I hope you were not waiting for them to send a postcard. Are you too brainless to trace their whereabouts?”

 

“My Lord, the Muggle world is-”

 

“Is what, Rodolphus? Too daunting for you?” Their Lord sneered, his eyes flashing bright red. “Their son must be going to school. They should be back in their repulsive hovel today. Why weren’t you on the lookout? Why are they still alive?”

 

“My Lord, please, I’ll go back, I’ll kill them today!”

 

“You will kill them, and you will find Narcissa’s boys. We will meet again in five days. This is all I give you. Do not disappoint me.”

 

When the Cruciatus hit, long enough for the man to lose control of his bladder, Rabastan’s anger flared.

 


	5. Reaper

“ _Glacius. Exori! Animo Glaciem!_ ”

 

The ice Harry had Conjured and animated stood tall in front of the small assembly of students, swaying, awaiting orders. For their first Defence lesson, those who didn’t have a NEWT in the subject were stuck with him as a teacher. Draco, who should have been studying Geography with Miss Sundheim, had decided to watch his boyfriend’s lesson and it was not because he found him so devilishly attractive in the role of a professor, no matter what anyone else said. He had simply taken a peek at his lesson plan and had found himself intrigued.

 

Though, Harry did look good today. Insanely so. He wore black robes that would have been reminiscent of Snape had they not been buttoned on the side of his chest and were not so tightly fitted. His hair was tied in a loose knot resting against the back of his neck - and now Draco felt like Teeth, unable to control himself in front of something shiny and delicious. He focused on the other boy’s face instead of letting his eyes wander too low.

 

“Transfiguration, Conjuration, Animation and Invocation are an often-overlooked part of Defence.” Harry raised his wand. “Can anyone tell me why?”

 

Surprisingly, it was small, tiny Evander who raised his hand first. The child being shuffled into NEWT-level Defence was ludicrous enough, but actively participating? He wasn’t an insane genius. He just understood the value of Defence too well.

 

His schedule, that Draco had been able to look at, did not contain anything but Duelling, Defence, Transfiguration and Charms. He would study with each teacher on his own and attend any practical lesson he would still have time for. That the first class of term managed to be about all four subjects was just a bonus.

 

“You can make things fight for you,” the kid answered after Harry nodded.

 

The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-Draco’s-Stomach-Flutter glanced at the teens on the other side of the room. “ _Pugna!_ ”

 

The tower of ice rushed towards Adrian, who disappeared under his desk with a frightened squeak. Pansy erected a strong Shield Charm, but it had no effect. The ice split into several pieces, until Katie had the smart idea to Vanish it. Draco thought that they were lucky it had worked for that one. He had no desire to see a sentient bit of ice running around the school and making friends with Frank.

 

“Perfect!” Harry looked proud. “This teaches us something else: Shield Charms cannot always be relied on. Why didn’t it work here?”

 

“Physical attack,” Pansy offered from her spot at the back of the room. She had hesitated between going back to Hogwarts, following Hermione to France, or staying here. Her mother’s presence in Scotland decided for her, in the end. Draco knew she felt quite bothered by the fact that everyone was ahead of her in other subjects, though it would have been much worse without her participation in the Defence Club. Still, it seemed she deserved her O in her Defence OWL. “Basic shields only protect from spells. _Protego Horribilis_ could work.”

 

Harry’s smile morphed into a delighted grin. “If this was Hogwarts, Slytherin would be on the way to win the House Cup. _Protego Horribilis_ would fail after a while. Picture the Shield Charms like so: _Protego_ is an invisible fog, absorbing a spell. _Protego Totalum_ is slightly stronger; plastic wrap. That thing around your sandwiches yesterday,” he added, as the Slytherins in attendance were still unfamiliar with Muggle inventions. “Tears easily, can bounce a spell back to the caster if there are not more than a few hexes cast against it at the same time. _Protego Maxima_ is not only much bigger, allowing you to cover more allies, it’s also like glass. Hit it enough and it breaks. _Protego Horribilis_ is bulletproof glass, which Mister Hammer will be glad to talk about. It takes a tremendous force to destroy it. It’s also exhausting to cast, and you won’t be able to sustain it without depleting your resources. Which you do not want to do in a fight. So, Transfiguration.”

 

Evander raised his hand again. “Could I animate stones to form a golem and crush everyone?”

 

“Not very elegant, but effective. Yes, you could, and there would be many ways to do it. Transfigure a single rock, if you make it big enough, otherwise your golem might just be too small - you cannot decide to Transfigure a building into a giant cat. The cat will just be cat-sized. A golem has no predetermined size, it can be huge or microscopic, so your magic won’t know what you want unless you are very specific in your mind. It’ll just keep it at the same scale as the stone. You must want a big golem to change that. Intent is important. Andromeda will teach you all about that. You could also stick several stones together to make your golem through animation only. This could be handy, as each stone would still be able to act on its own. Your assignment for next week is to find more of these ways. I want at least three examples.”

 

His words were met with grumbles from Pansy and Adrian. Katie just stared straight ahead, but Evander looked like Yule had come early.

 

It was a small class, since every student who was at Lilium the previous year already earned their Defence NEWT. Checking their homework wouldn’t take too much of Harry’s time.

 

They hurried to their respective classes when Ignotus’ portrait appeared in the frame hanging in the room and announced how late they were, but Harry stayed behind to clean up and fix the dents on the desk attacked by the ice monster. Draco tiptoed until he was flush against his back and kissed his neck, his hands wandering on his chest. He made a noise of frustration. Robes were not practical. He liked t-shirts, which allowed him to slide his fingers underneath so easily.

 

Harry let out a shuddering breath and rested the back of his head against Draco’s shoulder.

 

It was becoming more and more difficult to resist, now that they had been dating for close to a year. The box of condoms in their desk drawer seemed to taunt them relentlessly, but still, their lingering fear and their wish to have a perfect first time stopped them. Sirius, who had shared his story of being caught in a broom cupboard at fourteen by a horrified Professor McGonagall, still couldn’t believe that the seal on the box hadn’t been broken.

 

Draco stepped back. “You were amazing.”

 

“And you probably made Miss Sundheim very angry. It’s the first day of school. Where is Swot Draco?”

 

“He was distracted. You know what you do to me, Professor Potter.”

 

Harry snickered, twisted around, pecked his lips and linked their arms together, dragging him into the corridor. The blonde was immediately spotted by his Squib teacher who had been waiting outside, and Harry abandoned him to her tender mercies, the coward! Miss Sundheim was stubborn, like a House Elf. Draco knew at once that his self-study period would not happen, and he followed the woman with an apology burning his tongue.

 

 

***

 

 

“Welcome to NEWT level Dark Arts Theory. I must congratulate each of you for your OWL results. The lowest grade was E, and that tells me all I need to know about your motivation.” Professor Gnedykh walked across the classroom in slow, wide steps, nodding at each teen one by one. “Of course, Mister Potter had to leave us, though I am relieved he didn’t usurp my position and teach you instead. He doesn’t know what he’s missing today.”

 

A shiver of anticipation coursed through Astoria’s veins. Gnedykh was always such a fascinating professor. She wondered what Pansy, Katie, Adrian and Evander would think once they would attend their own lesson, remembering the discourse about rituals and their consequences all too well. They had a great example of what could happen to innocent, even unwilling participants with little Cepheus and with Harry’s encyclopaedic knowledge of magic.

 

The young teenager was no longer required to attend classes, not with what she was learning now and with the state of her magic. She enjoyed the Department of Mysteries. Unspeakable fascinated her and if she hadn’t been on her way to become a Priestess of the Old Ways, she would have studied to join their ranks after graduating. As it was, she got to work with them and was satisfied by the experience so far.

 

She was becoming aware of her capabilities and remembered what she had done to Lucius Malfoy. At the time, she had been guided by external forces and let them use her magic and body as they pleased, but she was now learning to control them instead.

 

In the depths of the Department of Mysteries, she had been allowed to tinker with the Pool of Death. Her main teacher had explained that there was a similar doorway in the British Ministry, an arch with a veil, but here in Norway, they had a squared stone bath filled with a shivering, murmuring fog - and Astoria could hear what the voices said.

 

The Unspeakables informed her that they spoke no human tongue. She recognised the sensation of the whispers when she entered Lilium earlier and found out they came from the Dark Arts classroom. So, discreetly, she slipped into a seat at the back of the room and listened.   

 

What she came here for was imprisoned into a warded glass tank. A sort of blanket, twisting on itself, testing the boundaries around it. When Gnedykh unveiled it, Astoria saw Theo’s face pale drastically.

 

Millicent squeaked and her chair dragged on the floor. “Professor, is that a Lethifold?”

 

“It is indeed! I found this one in Nicaragua this summer and thought it would be a great way to start the year. As this is not a Magical Creatures class, can anyone guess why I would show it to you?”

 

No one moved. Astoria had a rather good guess in mind but didn’t want to participate in a class she wasn’t supposed to attend.

 

The Russian teacher stroked his beard. “This is a creature made entirely of Darkness. It doesn’t eat, sleep, or mate. It kills and absorbs the prey’s essence. To reproduce, it divides itself, much like cells, which I hope you’ve learned about in your Muggle classes. Mitosis. Each Lethifold on the planet originated from ambient magic. In all honesty, they shouldn’t exist in our world. How does that one feel to you? Mister Zabini?”

 

“Terrifying, like a Dementor, only I’m not getting depressed.” He inclined his head curiously. “It does make me want to run, though.”

 

Daphne nodded, tapping her fingers against her chin. “Feels predatory, primal.”

 

“Exactly. Your body should be screaming at you to get out of here. If you listened to your instincts right now, you would already be gone - but I’ve put a Dampening Spell on the room.”

 

“Can it get out, Sir?” Susan asked, shaking like a leaf.

 

“No container is fool proof and I will ask you all not to linger if I am not around. The reason I brought it here, aside from showing you a creature you might never see again, was to teach you about dark magic imbued-items and curse-breaking. Yes, it is part of the Dark Arts, because a Curse-Breaker needs to know the magic he’s working against intimately. Today, you will each approach the Lethifold and commit to memory everything it makes you experience. The feelings, the smell, the type of response your body gives you, the change in atmosphere if you walk around it, the way it moves, the way it sounds - because yes, it does make sounds, but you need to focus to hear them. They are beings that possess every characteristic you can find in dark spells. If you recognise even one of them on an object, you can already assume it has been hexed. A Curse-Breaker will know what type of hex it was and will identify layers of magic. I am obviously not asking you to do this.”

 

Theo raised his hand. “Er, Sir? Are Dementors the same thing then?”

 

“They are indeed. The difference is their powers and their aura. I cannot bring one here as they are not as easily contained and Dampening Spells don’t work on them.”

 

No one rushed to the front of the classroom when he invited them to approach the box, but Astoria was too intrigued to be scared. It must have shown on her face, as their teacher asked her to come closer.

 

“This will look strange,” she warned, “but please do not intervene.”

 

And with practised ease, she stepped out of her body, her invisible form now able to discern the pulsating darkness within the Lethifold’s form. She floated until her hands brushed against the glass.

 

_Feed---must----smells like---so cold---need---light---dark---_

 

“Can you understand me?” Astoria’s voice spoke two languages at once, a rough speech rumbling under her English words.

 

The moving shape stilled.

 

_Speak---_

 

“I do speak your language. I understand you. Will you talk to me?”

 

_Human---speak---understand---out---_

 

“I am a Priestess of the Old Ways. Will you answer my questions?”

 

It reared back.

 

_Yes---_

 

“Do you live in-between worlds?”

 

_Yes---can see---all worlds---death---life---souls---we travel---replenish---ley lines---_

 

“Ley lines feed you. Not humans?”

 

_Magic feeds---_

 

“Why do you kill humans in their sleep?”

 

_Death---asking_

 

She wasn’t sure why she was doing this, but something told her she had to, and she was quite good at listening to her inside voices.

 

“So, you feed off magic, can see everything in our world and in the other, and you kill because Death wants you to. You are not a creature at all, you are a reaper, aren’t you?”

 

_Reap---souls---not---eat_

 

“Huh.” That was one misconception thoroughly squashed. “What do you know of Dementors?”

 

_Abominations! Devour souls! Prison no longer._

 

She wondered if emotions made the Lethifold more articulate or if it was only getting used to talking properly. So, she listened, asked for confirmation, and learned.

 

Dementors were a mistake, cast out of the realm of Death and imprisoned, until a wizard found them and used them. They perverted everything they touched, made humans fear the end of their lives, terrifying them with freezing cold temperatures, despair and torturous memories, so they could drag them from the world of the living and relish in their terror. Until recently, they were bound to the will of specific humans, like Ministry Employees in Britain, but the Lethifold confessed that this was changing. Some of them were lurking at the doorstep of every portal to the other world, ready to strike before actual reapers could do their job and save souls.

 

“It’s the Dark Lord, isn’t it? He’s freeing them.”

 

_Priestess controls---help---_

 

“How?”

 

_Need---the light---the soul-shard-no-more-boy_

 

“Harry and I can fix this?”

 

_Must fix---now sleep---_

 

When she returned to her body, she was breathless, and Gnedykh was staring with a delighted gleam in his wise eyes. Somehow, she knew he was aware of what had happened, to some degree, and had been hoping for it.

 

She was filled with a renewed sense of purpose at the thought that even from far away, she and the Boy-Who-Lived could cripple a part of Voldemort’s forces.

 

 

***

 

 

During the night, the Lethifold shrank until it was no bigger than a fruit bat. It was happy: it had found a human who did not fear it and brought him to another human who could Speak and Listen.

 

Sensing that the threat was severely diminished, the wards fell, and the tiny reaper escaped, eager to find his new favourite being.

 


	6. Loose Lethifold

“-and he tried to deny it! Can you believe the nerve?” Sirius pulled at his hair, pacing in the reception hall while the students suffered through their second day of school. Remus had attempted to conceal his relationship with Nymphadora even when the dog Animagus confronted him about it. He had just wanted to tease him. After all, Sirius had done nothing but encourage him.

 

“It’s Moony. He doesn’t like being proven wrong.”

 

The man sighed and glanced at the portrait above the fireplace. It depicted the Wizarding District of St. Petersburg at night during the depth of winter, candles flickering in the empty streets. James Potter was busy building a snow elf, making sure its giant ears and nose didn’t fall off.

 

“It’s just pissing me off, Prongs. I know their age difference is just an excuse. It’s all because of his furry little problem, and I’m so angry at these arseholes sitting on the Wizengamot and making him believe he’s a worthless beast.”

 

“Well, as much as you don’t want to hear it, you are a Lord now. Your voice will carry enough weight to sway the situation, especially when Harry joins you. These kids you’re teaching- most of the boys will have a seat when their fathers end up in Azkaban.”

 

“So much optimism.”

 

James cackled. “I’ve seen my son and the Greengrass girl. Even if by some miracle the Order can’t stop Voldemort, and trust me, the situation is much better than it was in 1981, that monster stands no chance. Right now, Harry and Astoria aren’t strong enough, but they will be.”

 

Sirius bit back a snarl. How could the boy’s father condone the use of his own child in a war? “What makes you say that? Don’t mention the Prophecy or I’ll burn your portrait.”

 

“Just a hunch. And lots of spying. Ignotus says the strangest things about the girl and I’ve heard about Lucius Malfoy. Someone who can open up portals to the realm of Death and throw their enemies inside is amazing.”

 

“She’s fourteen and doesn’t control her magic well enough. She said she had tried to open the portal several times for the Unspeakables but couldn’t manage it. Her power is still fickle.”

 

“And that’s why she hasn’t been sent to Voldy’s hideout yet. Don’t tell me Dumbledore wouldn’t force her to do it if he knew.”

 

“That barmy puppeteer is not getting any of those children for his army as long as they’re underage.” Sirius resumed his pacing and he gritted his teeth. What he was about to say had been stewing in his mind for weeks… but after Azkaban, after being so thoroughly abandoned by his world and those he considered friends, and after they turned against Harry, he didn’t really care anymore. He breathed in and out slowly. “If it were up to me, Prongs… and I can’t believe I’m telling you this-”

 

“I’m a portrait. You know I won’t judge you.”

 

“You might after this.” He ran a hand through his hair, which was already messy from all the pulling he had done earlier. “If Harry agreed, I would tell everyone to go fuck themselves. I’d let other people take care of Voldemort and just live on an island, somewhere in the Pacific, with my son, his family and my godson, and I would never look back.”

 

James stepped back, admired his creation, then shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile. “You would be doing exactly what you should in this case. Protecting Pronglet. But a sixteen-year-old Pronglet wouldn’t let you.”

 

“His friend Hermione calls it his “people saving thing”.”

“I’m very proud of him, but I’d gladly ground him for it. A Basilisk. Still can’t believe it. And we got side-tracked,” James said kindly. “Do you think Moony will get over himself?”

 

“I’ll kill him if he doesn’t. My cousin will be good for him.”

 

Sirius called Toppy for a cup of tea and slumped down into a couch. Nymphadora was just as stubborn as Remus. In a way, she reminded him of Lily. Once she wanted something, she didn’t stop until she had it. Would it be enough, or would their relationship collapse? If he were to dwell on it, he needed something stronger than peach-flavoured black tea (loose leaf, because Draco was a smart boy who made sure their drinks were made with the best products).

 

The snow elf lost its nose and James whined pitifully. It had taken some time before Sirius was comfortable enough to spend more than five minutes with the portrait and it still hurt, but not enough to reduce him to tears. Not anymore.

 

He smiled and drank his tea slowly, until a niggling sensation at the back of his neck became too much of a bother to be ignored. He turned around, and found himself face to face with a small- what was that? It looked like a mix between a black baby blanket and a manta ray and was floating way too close to him.

 

James recognised it first and scrambled closer to the frame with wide eyes. “Is that a freaking Lethifold?”

 

Sirius was frozen in panic at the thought that such a terrible creature could sneak up on him like this, and he could only stare at it while his brain yelled at him to cast a Patronus. He couldn’t move his hand.

 

Suddenly, the Lethifold lost interest and hurried out of the room. Shaking himself much like Padfoot, Sirius gathered his bearings, grabbed his wand and chased after it.

 

Only to run straight into Vitaly, who looked disgruntled but not overly worried. Sirius seized his upper arms. “There’s a baby Lethifold in the building! Why is it there? What did you do?”

 

“I teach the Dark Arts.”

 

As if it explained it all. The younger man let go of him and tried to rush past him, but the Russian stopped him. “We’re not at risk, you should speak to Astoria.”

 

Now, that sounded better already. He felt the tension in his body vanish so quickly that it made him dizzy, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. What had the girl done? He raised an eyebrow at the Dark Arts teacher who shrugged and told him what happened during his lesson.

 

“When I went to check on it this morning, it was gone,” he continued. “I found it with Astoria in the garden before breakfast. It seems that when it reduces its size, it doesn’t cause a flight response for anyone. It can go through wards and I’ll test its powers to see if they’re a threat, but in the meantime, I would ask you to trust the girl.”

 

Sirius gritted his teeth. It was a lot to ask, but if she could talk to it… he sighed. “I’ll accept it if you make absolutely certain that it’s not about to smother us in our sleep. Take it to the Department of Mysteries today. I won’t budge on this.”

 

“Sure. I’ll accompany Astoria. Harry can teach the newbies’ lesson. Now, did you see where the flying blanket went? The girl said it liked exploring.”

 

 

***

 

 

_Hi Blaise,_

_Your mum and my dad went to the Four Seasons in Florence again. I saw the bill._

_I’m at Beauxbâtons now. It’s so weird, because there are people from many different countries, but everything is in French, so we have to wear some kind of earpiece that translates what the teachers are saying. I’m very good at Translation spells for my books too._

_I made the Broom Racing team! They have a lot of different sports here, even football. There’s no age restriction for Quidditch either but I prefer racing. In my team, I have Gabrielle Delacour. She’s a First Year. It’s Fleur’s sister, and the Deputy Headmaster is their dad. She’s getting bullied because people say she got her spot thanks to her family. It’s only been a week and I already hate them._

_We have a small Hogwarts group led by Hermione where we can study together in English and I think it’s a great idea. Translations are nice and all, but it helps when I feel homesick. Not sure if I miss Britain or Italy though. Or just my dad._

_Did you know that Beauxbâtons has a program for disabled magicians? They don’t need to climb stairs if they can’t. Many of the kids here actually got a Hogwarts letter and couldn’t attend because the school is completely inaccessible if you don’t have two legs in working order._

_Hermione found a new crusade. She’ll be busy with all the laws and stuff she wants to change when she leaves school. I think she’s writing a novel for Pansy right now._

_See you soon. I think we’ll spend Christmas together._

_Luca_

 

 

***

 

 

_Dear Pansy,_

_Beauxbâtons looks like a dream - if your name is Lavender Brown. Everything is white or pastel, the floor is made of marble, they have crystal chandeliers and porcelain tableware, and First Years have manners classes. It’s surreal._

_The palace looks like Versailles from the outside. There’s not a single tree out of place, every flower was chosen and planted according to specific rules that are probably ridiculous and nothing is allowed to grow wild. From what you told me about Draco’s upbringing, I would say it looks like Malfoy Manor. Yes, they have peacocks. They’re not albino but they’re still vicious._

_The dress code is much stricter than Hogwarts’. I thought it wouldn’t be, as this is France and France does not have uniforms at school, but this is my Muggle side speaking. Everything we wear must be perfect, even in Potions, and believe it or not, girls are supposed to wear their hair up and away from their faces. Any symbol of faith is forbidden, make-up must be discrete, boys can’t grow beards or have long hair, and genders only mingle for classes and sports. Even then, girls are implicitly discouraged from physical activities other than dance. I heard it’s better since the Triwizard Tournament, because Fleur showed them what a woman was capable of. Madame Maxine and Monsieur Delacour are trying their best to get rid of this rampant sexism but some of the teachers and a frankly scary number of students are reluctant to change._

_On the other hand, they have an amazing program to include disabled students, though not all of them attend Beauxbâtons - and they have magical elevators. There’s more than one school for magic in the country, like L’Institut de Sorcellerie de Besançon, which is geared towards those who have hearing or vision impairments. They have theoretical schools for Squibs, special establishments for those with learning disabilities - and honestly, I am so angry at our Ministry. I learned that we used to have the same schools until the 1930’s, when the Ministry stopped funding them. Since then, Hogwarts became the only option other than home-schooling, and we all know how well that would go for Muggleborns. I’ve read that in_ Ecoles de Magie d’Europe : Différences et Similitudes _._

_I miss the chaos of Hogwarts. In Beauxbâtons, portraits are haughty and only speak to tell students to adjust their robes or hair. There’s no Sir Cadogan, no one leaves their frame, they’re rather boring. It’s too clean and shiny, I always feel like I’m about to break something. I almost wish Peeves would be there. I don’t belong here, but I’ll be alright._

_However, I love the library. They have an impressive collection and I found many references that could help us shape new laws in the future. Thank you for recommending the book of French Pureblood customs, by the way, it’s very useful._

_How is Lilium? I am still quite surprised that you didn’t go back to Hogwarts, but I understand why. Will you be passing your NEWTs this year too? How are the babies?_

_With all my love,_

_Hermione_

 

 

***

 

 

_Dear Mione,_

_Astoria adopted a Lethifold._

_Enough said._

_I’ll write again tomorrow, I’m already late. Draco is trying to get rid of Frank again and I refuse to miss this._

_Pronglet_

 

 

***

 

 

Harry had been understandably wary of Astoria’s new pet, even after all the tests it went through at the Ministry and the reassurances from Gnedykh, Narcissa and even Flitwick. He agreed with Draco and Sirius on all points when they discussed it: the creature was fascinating and should be kept far away from them. Unfortunately, fate had it out for him, because according to Astoria, he was supposed to help her. So, instead of cuddling with Draco and enjoying Toy Story, he was introducing himself to one of the scariest beings in existence.

 

He learned about Death and Dementors and Voldemort. Astoria told him how, together, they could make themselves useful to the war - and really, how could Harry say no, when he imagined what Voldemort could do with an army of Dementors at his beck and call? He couldn’t lie to himself: he already had them in his grasp.

 

“What do I need to do?” he asked, determined, his jaw set and a sensation of stillness running in his veins. It felt like walking towards the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets after the ceiling fell and separated him from Ron.

 

Astoria beamed and he could have sworn the flying blanket was quite satisfied with itself. The young teenager translated a series of facts about Dementors, before moving on to the magic she was using and how compatible it would be with Harry’s. It surprised him. After the Horcrux and his recent, sudden expertise in the Dark Arts, he often thought he was tainted by darkness. He didn’t see it as tremendously negative anymore, not since he accepted that the Dark Arts were not inherently evil, but still, he sometimes had doubts. The Lethifold disagreed: according to him, Harry’s aura shone brightly, pure and powerful, repelling any and all unwelcome intent. He was, quite literally, a beacon of Light Magic, the perfect individual to dig into Ley Lines and support a Priestess. He could act as a balance for her, and if she ever drowned into the depths of her magic, he could save her from it.

 

And who was he to refuse, when it could keep a friend safe and tied so perfectly with what he enjoyed studying?

 

“Alright. I feel like I’m getting nowhere with energy nodes and practical applications for my studies,” he said. “Can you help me?”

 

The Lethifold nodded with its entire body, making it look like a wave. Astoria was giddy when she took his hand. “We’ll work together and get rid of the Dementors before the Dark Lord decides to use them.”

 

He returned her smile but thought it wouldn’t be so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went with the idea that Gabrielle was born in 1985, since the books themselves contradict each other about her. Next up: Hogwarts is pissed off.


	7. Rebelling

Hogwarts was humming. It was a deep, slow rumble from the depths of the castle’s foundations, rising to the towers, coursing through the walls. It could only be heard by those who paid attention; those who knew. The castle was awake. She had felt the birth of a Slytherin child - he was far away and still so little, but his mere existence was enough to rouse her. She listened to the four Heads of House and when the curse on the Defence position did not end the reign of the unworthy creature who usurped the Headmaster’s role, she had agreed to act. She observed every little detail within her corridors, and she did not appreciate what she saw.

 

But she was too weak to eject unwanted residents from her wall permanently or to make them disappear. She needed some more time, and she hoped it would be enough.

 

It was Sunday, September 1st, and the Hogwarts Express had arrived a few hours earlier. Dinner had been served, new teachers had been introduced, new rules and Educational Decrees had been put into place. Too many of them. Her first thought, as the children were Sorted, was that there were too few First Years.

 

Hogwarts watched Percival Weasley, so loyal to the Ministry, blinded by ambition, as he discovered his quarters as Charms teacher and Head of Ravenclaw. This was quite ridiculous, obviously, but a Head of House who was not from that House wasn’t too serious, compared to everything else. Had he truly been a Gryffindor, though? She would need to speak to the Sorting Hat.

 

She had been asleep since the Four Founders bonded their magic to give her sentience, but her walls remembered enough for her to know who roamed her hallways. And she was no stranger to the woman who had been hired to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Adeline Parkinson. She bore the mark of true evil, the one that stank of murder. She would be watched closely. If Salazar’s dearest pet had still been alive, Hogwarts would have arranged a special meal just for it.

 

She didn’t mind Wilbert Slinkhard for now but did not trust Albert Runcorn.

 

The stench of the mark was attached to Severus Snape, but it was covered by something else, and Hogwarts would allow him to stay. She was deeply saddened, however, by the children who thought it wise to be branded as well, and as much as she did not want to, she needed to consider them a threat. They, too, would be observed.

 

She wished she could get stronger faster, and while she waited, she would let the ghosts and elves have their fun. Dearest Peeves actually listened to her and organised a ghostly meeting, though it didn’t have the success he and Hogwarts were hoping for. Ghosts were notably set in their ways, after all. Binns didn’t leave his classroom, the Grey Lady refused to attend, several spirits came and revealed they had forgotten their own name and wouldn’t help, and Myrtle spent the entire meeting whining about missing her daily spying activity in the Prefects’ Bathroom (at that, Hogwarts focused her still weak magic on the walls and pipes to ward the bathroom and protect her students’ privacy, and she tried to keep calm at the thought that this had actually been allowed to go on for decades. The Founders would have been outraged).

 

But Peeves soldered on. He might not have the other ghosts’ backing, but he had Hogwarts’. Adeline Parkinson spent her first week battling an invasion of midges in her living quarters and losing her wand every ten minutes.

 

 

***

 

 

Ron was fuming, and he wasn’t alone. The Chamber of Secrets was filled with old and new members of the Defence Club, each of them angrier than the next, some going as far as plotting the Toad’s gory death. It didn’t feel like a joke anymore. If Fred and George had been there, they wouldn’t be laughing, and Ron wouldn’t blame them.

 

It was Friday and they had just suffered through two weeks that had been so ridiculous, none of them could believe something like this could happen. Hoping for help, Pureblood students had tried reaching out to their parents to put pressure on the Ministry, only to receive an answer that proved that the content of their letters was being modified. Someone was intercepting them and changing them, no matter what they contained, in case some were written in some sort of code. If it came from anyone but the Inquisitorial Squad members, a letter wasn’t left untouched.

 

Ron had received one from Harry who had been very confused by what he had told him - because the Toad had written something else and it interfered with the magic hiding the true content he had attempted to share. Until the next Hogsmeade weekend, there would be no way to contact the outside world without the Toad’s sticky, pudgy fingers messing things up. And Ron had little hope that they would be allowed outside without an escort.

 

There was a Conjured blackboard near the entrance to the Basilisk’s den. Tracey Davis was listening to various ideas shouted from all corners of the room and wrote them down under the title “Pink Amphibian Extinction Plan”. Learning to send messages via Patronus was at the top of the list, but they all knew it would be impossible thanks to Educational Decree Number Two-Hundred and One.

 

The Toad had taken extreme measures to ensure they would not use their wands. Short of confiscating them, she had banned their use entirely and had a Ministry employee checking everyone’s wand daily, at random times of the day. Anyone found casting a spell, no matter how minor, would be given one punishment only, and if they were caught again, they would be expelled. And Ron knew that Umbridge would use this to expel every Muggleborn she could.

 

Obviously, this did not apply to the Inquisitorial Squad.

 

The only silver lining was that the castle was fully on their side. Between the Elves who Apparated them in and out of the Chamber, random passageways forming to help them escape when needed, and portraits ready to alert them when someone was in trouble, they had hope. Ron believed that the only reason Hogwarts hadn’t crushed Umbridge between two walls was because she was gathering her forces after centuries of slumber.

 

From her spot close to where Ron was sitting, Cho Chang cried quietly, comforted by Padma Patil who looked grim. Ravenclaws were deeply affected by the change to their classes and missed Flitwick dearly.

 

“I’ll never be hired anywhere,” Cho whispered in-between sobs. “We can’t study everything on our own and still attend classes, and we can’t even practice any spell. We’ll all fail our NEWTs.”

 

Ron glanced at Padma again, noting that she was even prettier than at the Yule ball and hating himself for having been such a prat to her, but this feeling was quickly replaced by plotting and more anger.

 

He saw Neville talking with Dobby before asking everyone to be quiet, and he focused on him. The boy - young man, really - had become rather impressive without his blubbering and shyness. He reminded him of Harry, somewhat.

 

“Okay, guys, girls-”

 

“And other genders!” Someone called, and Ron noticed that Cho wasn’t sobbing anymore but smiling slightly.

 

Neville snorted. “Yes, everyone, listen up. There are dozens of us here and I bet we all agree on one thing: this year, school won’t teach us anything.” He raised his hands to calm the angry muttering that rose at these words. “Dobby here has a fantastic idea. What if we had our lessons here instead? Real ones.”

 

“When are we supposed to revise?” Terry Boot asked worriedly.

 

“Revise? What about sleep?” Parvati asked, immediately garnering nods of approval.

 

Neville crouched slightly to pat Dobby’s shoulder. “House Elves.”

 

Confused, Ron added his voice to numerous exclamations of disbelief, until a Ravenclaw (of course it would be a brainy one) started clapping enthusiastically.

 

“I see some of you understood. Elves will attend lessons on our behalf, Transfigured as ourselves, while we have a true, normal school year, down here.”

 

Dobby puffed up his chest. “We is working twice as hard to keep the castle in order and cook and go to class! Hogwarts be helping. We is having strong magic, look!” He turned into Harry, then back into himself.

 

Ron had to hand it to Neville and Dobby, it was a brilliant plan - and the magic was truly impressive. He was so entranced at the prospect that he barely registered the presence of both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall right behind him. Hearing the slow drawl of the Potions Master telling his colleague “I told you so” almost gave him heart palpitations.

 

“Thank you, Mister Longbottom,” the Transfiguration teacher said, startling more than just Ron this time, and looking around the Chamber appraisingly. “Do I have to understand that I will be teaching no human student this year?”

 

“Erm, there’s still the ones who are not here, Professor.”

 

“Very well. This year will not be exciting for them nor me. I assume you already have plans to ensure that the normal yearly program is adhered to?”

 

Neville explained quickly that the best students in their year would teach the younger teens, following what they had learned themselves, and that the Seventh Years would mostly study by themselves. Snape then grudgingly added that he would teach them Advanced Defence if time permitted it. The older woman pursed her lips. “I have heard nothing, and I know nothing, but I might offer my help without notice, and I will be giving you homework. There is, however, still a hole in your plan, Mister Longbottom. Your wands.”

 

And at that moment, Ron knew what to do. “Wands! Harry is a wandmaker!”

 

“Mister Potter is _what_ , now?”

 

He rose to his feet and addressed the room. “I saw Harry a few weeks ago. He made Neville’s wand! What if he could make us secondary ones?” He was so excited that he almost started laughing at Snape’s expression.

 

He looked like he was chewing on a lemon and suffering greatly. “How do we know that Potter’s creations won’t explode?”

 

Ron bit his lower lip, raised his chin, and stared at the man. “Because he’s doing it professionally with the backing of a foreign Ministry and provides wands for their workers. Can’t tell you more than that. Sir.”

 

Snape and McGonagall looked at each other, and in perfect unison (horrifying themselves), told the students not to get caught. Before leaving, the Deputy Headmistress offered to send a letter to Harry herself, and to make sure the wands could be received in a safe location if he agreed to help. Before anyone could ask, she explained that she couldn’t yet help anyone contact their parents to tell the truth about what was going on. If Umbridge heard of it, and she would, there was no telling what she would do. A cornered Toad could be dangerous. Until they knew more, it would be best to lay low. Ron guessed the order came from Dumbledore, because McGonagall didn’t seem the slightest bit happy about it. Elves would not be able to do much either, since if they left Hogwarts, it would be noticed and most likely investigated.

 

Seeing the beaming smiles of every member of the Defence Club, Ron groaned, aware that he would probably spend hours dodging questions about the Hero of the Wizarding World. Even the Slytherins seemed pleased (and Cho started crying again, but Ron imagined it was relief).

 

Now, he had a letter to write.

 

 

***

 

 

During the third week of September, Hogwarts gathered enough power to start her plan. The first step? Protecting the students.

 

She reinforced her wards, which had been left in a sorry state. She prevented Myrtle from changing her target by placing ghost repelling spells on each and every bathroom, dormitory and locker room, but she left the teachers’ and Headmistress’ quarters alone. She added a slide to the boys’ dormitories so that girls couldn’t visit them either, grumbling at the thought that only one gender required protection, and she got rid of every Dark artefact smuggled by students and teachers, sealing them inside a wall of her choosing. There were many Blood Quills among her findings.

 

Hogwarts didn’t mind the Dark Arts; Salazar and Rowena had both done fascinating work, the latter dealing with Death Magic while Salazar preferred Animancy. Helga herself owned many objects that could harm others. But none of them would have attacked their own students. The owners of what Hogwarts had confiscated intended to use them.

 

There was a sickly magic seeping from the Room of Hidden Things, something similar to the Mark on Severus and Adeline’s left arm - but it was so twisted that Hogwarts couldn’t see it properly, nor summon it. When she called for help, the ghosts and Elves were unable to approach it. She put its existence at the back of her mind for now.

 

She woke the suits of armour, needing eyes everywhere. Their first task would be to hinder the Inquisitorial Squad. The first time she heard Filch discuss what he would enjoy doing to troublemakers with Mrs Norris, she lost control and ejected him from his room, straight into the Black Lake - unfortunately he could just come back, but it soothed her. She repeated this every time he so much as thought about torturing children. Why was he even there? Hogwarts certainly didn’t need him, not with the army of elves taking care of the castle. Since he was the least urgent issue at the moment, she only bothered with him when she had enough time.

 

Peeves started adding delicacies in the food, straight from the Potions cupboard. Umbridge’s meals became tasteless at first, but she soon ate eyeballs without realising what they were. Her digestive system did not appreciate it and made sure to let her know it.

 

So far, Adeline was behaving, and Percival sang the praises of the Ministry whenever someone was around to hear him - if Umbridge was there, it turned into a revolting fanaticism that managed to get on Hogwarts’ nerves, so to speak. But she did see him waver in his convictions, just once, when Snape asked him why he thought it wise to turn the school into a theoretical heaven.

 

Wilbert, Hogwarts thought, probably asked for teaching tips from Binns, with a dose of paranoia and extreme pacifism that, as a castle that had seen her fair share of sieges and wars, she found utterly unrealistic. As for Albert, she discovered he had issues with anyone who was not a white British citizen when he Vanished a girl’s headscarf and cast a Whitening Spell at a First Year’s skin. He became universally hated in a single moment and had no ally aside from Umbridge in the entire school.

 

In retaliation, Hogwarts started reducing the size of everything he owned, little by little, day by day, furious that she could not do more so soon. She sent Boggarts to his room at night, but he only took his lack of sleep out on his students by being even more aggressive.

 

The other teachers attempted to contact the Ministry, but their pleas were ignored. There was no one they could contact to bypass the necessary hoops, now that Amelia Bones was no longer working there.

 

Snape and Babbling were the first to act. With a combination of runes and potions applied inside the wood of his bed, they made it so the man would feel severely ill as soon as he uttered certain words. The students and the castle witnessed him collapse face first in the corridor and break his nose. When he came back from the Hospital wing and sneered at Ona Parangyo, Peeves dropped a bucket of rotten fish on his head. For the first time in a year, the students felt like they had allies somewhere.

 

 

***

 

 

_Mate,_

_Don’t reply to me, send Hedwig to Headquarters, mail is being watched and the Toad is tampering with our trick. She still can’t read anything, but we can’t either._

_So, we need your help._

_We can’t use our wands anymore. Educational Decree bullshit, you can guess. No magic allowed in Hogwarts if we are students, even for those who are of age. Our wands are checked all the time, and we really need to use them._

_We want to study in the Chamber. Dobby (he says hi) said that the Elves will pretend to be students, something to do with their magic, and they’ll attend classes while we study down there._

_We need wands. Can you make them for us?_

_See you soon, I hope._

_Ron_

_P.S: Mum is asking what Teeth’s favourite colour is. Christmas jumper?_

_P.P.S: Did you hear from Hermione?_

 

 

***

 

 

_Ron,_

_Not sure when you’ll get this. Send me a sample of magical signature for each member of the DC. McGonagall will know how._

_I’m going to sleep now but I want to send this quickly, I’ll write more tomorrow._

_Pronglet_

_P.S: He likes blue_

_P.P.S: I did and Beauxbâtons sounds horrible and posh. I’m sending a copy of her letter, I guess you didn’t get yours. Did someone kill the Toad yet?_

 

 

***

 

_To: Garrick Ollivander, Mykew Gregorovitch, Jimmy Kiddell and Violetta Beauvais_

_I am a new wandmaker in dire need of help, willing to reward you handsomely for your assistance. I am aware of the fact that some of you prefer to create wands and let them choose their owner, and surely this is a perfect option when one supplies so many wands every year. I would however require many untraceable wands created in accordance with the Magical Signature method._

_I would create them on my own, but the situation is urgent. I believe it would be wiser to share the task. Due to the risks involved, I will require the signature of a secrecy contract._

_Please let me know your thoughts. I will provide each of you with 15’000 Galleons._

_Regards,_

_H. Peverell_

 

 

***

 

 

_Dear Mister Potter,_

_Please send your contract and the samples, and I shall provide your wands. The children of Hogwarts are in dire need of them._

_Of course, I know who you are, boy, and I must say I was relieved and ecstatic after reading your message. I felt your beautiful wand when it was snapped, and it caused me great pain._

_I am honoured to hear that you have found yourself on this path. I wish to talk, one day, and share my experience with you - and if you agree, I would like to listen to your story. Every wandmaker is different, after all. I find myself rather curious._

_I have been in contact with the wandmakers you’ve reached out to. You should receive their reply shortly._

_Regards,_

_Garrick Ollivander_

_Ollivander’s, since 382 B.C_


	8. Quidditch, Winks and Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank is the cloud that Draco Conjured at the end of Safety. I’m mentioning it here because someone forgot and I guess it’s hard to keep track of everything. He’ll be important at some point, he’s not just here for the lulz. 
> 
> Anubis (thanks to Jen in the comments of Chapter 6) is the Lethifold, or the flying baby blanket since this is what he looks like. Anubis is sentient, Frank is not, but the magic inside him might be.

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and placed the Hawthorn wand in the basket near the shelf where he stocked his commissioned work for the Ministry. The magical signature he had worked with had been tricky. Too excitable. What else should he have expected from Colin Creevey, truly? He smiled softly at the thought that the younger teen would be overjoyed that his spare wand had been created by his idol. As much as he hated his fame and found the boy irritating, spending so long away from his camera made him more tolerant. Unless he was just growing up and wasn’t so easily riled up anymore. 

 

He glanced at the wands he had already finished and mentally thanked the four wandmakers who were helping him, or he would have been eaten alive by stress. It had been Draco’s idea after seeing the list of students who attended the Defence Club, and Harry would be damned if he didn’t listen to his boyfriend. Pansy was sometimes mimicking the sound of a whip when the blonde asked him for something in public - it could be a mundane request, like telling him to pass him the salt at dinner, but Pansy was having too much fun to care. Harry thought he should drag Hermione back here so she would be less lonely and less prone to tease them.

 

He raised his head when the door opened and Katie came in, holding Perseus (who had decided she was his new favourite person, much to Draco’s chagrin). “Hey, how was Defence?”

 

The Seventh Year Gryffindor, who liked to stay around Harry as he was the only one she was really familiar with here, shrugged and tried to separate Perseus’ claws from her pale pink sweater. “Draco’s good, but I’d rather learn from you, Professor Potter.” She winked and he blushed furiously, the nickname giving him unwelcome flashbacks of a fake detention she and Millicent had the unfortunate luck to interrupt three days ago. It wasn’t his fault if Draco had strange ideas sometimes! He ran a hand through his hair, his ears and cheeks burning even more when Katie started laughing. 

 

“Don’t be so embarrassed, we didn’t see anything.”

 

“There wasn’t much to see,” he mumbled.

 

She nodded. “Nobody believes you. Well, I do, and I think it’s cute to wait. As long as you’re both on the same page-”

 

“If we weren’t, we would still respect the other’s choice. I have no intention to force Draco into anything.”

 

“I know.” She walked towards the cupboard when the portrait startled her.

 

“Oi!” James Potter glared at her. “I could have lived my entire painted life without hearing about my son’s activities!”

 

“And my grandson’s,” Euphemia added.

 

Fleamont stroked his beard. “I seem to remember walking in on a very similar situation. I would appear that Potters do make attractive professors.”

 

“Dad!”

 

Perseus escaped and started playing with the hem of Harry’s trousers just as the boy decided he should probably run and hide. Katie’s lip twitched. 

 

“My mother keeps a portrait of an ancestor from the eighth century who is not shy in the slightest and loves to tell me how sexuality was not exactly taboo at the time. She was in a triad marriage. Some of these stories... I swear, getting The Talk by a thirteen-hundreds-years-old painting was so awkward.”

 

“Oh, Merlin, that reminds me of Great-Aunt Mary,” Fleamont said with a wide grin. “I must tell you about-”

 

Harry decided this was enough idiocy for today, and since portraits didn’t feel true emotions and would therefore not blame him, he quickly slipped out of the room with Katie and the white cat in tow. “Sorry.” He let go of her wrist near the stairs to the upper floor. “Did you want something?” 

 

“Yes, believe me, I didn’t come just to embarrass you. If I tell you Quidditch, what do you say?”

 

Perseus attempted to climb up his leg, digging his razor-sharp claws into Harry’s skin, but the boy didn’t react. “I say I miss the Gryffindor team?”

 

“Exactly! We can make two teams if we adjust the roster. Two Chasers and one Beater. Five people in each team.”

 

Harry perked up. He dearly missed the thrill of competitive Quidditch. The pick-up games they sometimes played in the garden were fun, of course, but he wished he could feel the excitement of a fair and challenging game again. “Did you speak to the others?”

 

She waved a Muggle notebook in front of his nose, so he grabbed it and checked the first page.

 

_ Team Hydrus (Coach: F. Flitwick) _

_ Seeker: H. Potter _

_ Chaser: K. Bell (Captain) _

_ Chaser: T. Nott _

_ Beater: P. Parkinson _

_ Keeper: T. Higgs _

 

_ Team Cepheus (Coach: S. Black) _

_ Seeker: A. Greengrass _

_ Chaser: A. Pucey (Captain) _

_ Chaser: D. Black _

_ Beater: M. Bulstrode _

_ Keeper: E. Vaisey _

 

He finished reading and gave her the notebook back. “Draco’s not Seeker?”

 

“Adrian wants to see what else he can do.”

 

“What about Daphne, Blaise and Susan?”

 

“Blaise said he’d rather die, Daphne doesn’t like flying and Suze is- not in a good place right now.”

 

He winced. The Hufflepuff redhead had been withdrawn lately, missing her best friend Hannah and keeping everyone away. She and Terence had broken up and mended fences so many times that Harry had no idea if they were currently together or not. During the summer, even when they were supposedly dating again, they didn’t show it. He thought it was rather sad, after the way they had acted around each other earlier in the year. They had seemed so in love. But he also understood that a solid relationship like he had with Draco was rather rare at their age. Now that he knew Susan better, he could also guess why things were rocky.

 

The girl was incredibly kind and a great friend to have - but she seemed to turn jealous and needy with Terence. Since he was older and currently working towards his Healing Mastery, she didn’t understand why he didn’t take as many breaks in his studies as he used to, and from what Harry had heard, she felt disconnected from him. 

 

“She’s too lonely,” Daphne had said one evening. “Remember when she arrived here, how she didn’t really get close to us? She was always there but never participating. I thought she was introverted and didn’t feel like talking.”

 

It was true. Susan had latched onto Terence a few months later and they had both lived in their little world, not that Harry blamed them, he and Draco were also attached at the hip. The difference was that the Hufflepuff and the Slytherin had barely spoken to anyone outside of meals or group activities. Harry knew that if he and Draco had pulled the same stunt, they would have suffered the wrath of their friends quite quickly.

 

He frowned. “She’s completely alone then?”

 

The Gryffindor Chaser started climbing the stairs. “She speaks to me. That’s enough for now. I’m just telling you so you know that we shouldn’t bother her too much.”

 

Harry decided it would be better that way. He didn’t fancy discussing private matters with anyone who wasn’t Draco. He could be rather oblivious after all and had already been mocked for being the last to realise that Daphne was being courted and had started dressing appropriately. Narcissa was trying to teach him Pureblood customs, strongly suggesting that he should learn everything before the inevitable bonding ceremony when they were of age.

 

At that, Harry had once more demonstrated that he didn’t always know what people were talking about, because it had taken him several hours to find out what she meant. If they followed protocol, he and Draco should be married in less than a year.

 

This was not happening. He was quite certain that Sirius would kill her first.

 

He cleared his thoughts and squinted when they walked outside, barely noticing that Perseus was no longer interested in his legs. Then, he saw his godfather Transfiguring a half-dead tree into a Quidditch goal post and his excitement came back. He grinned. 

 

“Do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

 

His smirk disappeared and he coughed violently, then stared at the girl who cackled madly. “I don’t mean Sirius, you berk! The Dragon tamer!” She pointed at the redhead Harry hadn’t seen yet.

 

What was Charlie doing here? 

 

“Don’t know him enough,” he replied, watching curiously as the muscular young man flew towards the hoop and changed its height while Sirius grew a taller one. “Ron says he’d marry a Dragon if he could.”

 

Katie hummed and Perseus dashed towards the hotel. 

 

“Hey, Prongslet.” Sirius placed his wand back into its holster and hugged his godson. Harry never complained when he did it. He loved hugs from those he trusted. The man looked at the Chaser. “Did you tell him?”

 

She handed him the notebook with a wide smile.

 

“It’s brilliant!” Harry exclaimed, and it really was. 

 

“I’m a coach for the Slytherin team. My young self is crying somewhere.”

 

Remembering that the team was named after the future Lord Slytherin, Harry idly wondered if Cepheus’ first word would be in Parseltongue. Meanwhile, Charlie landed and greeted him warmly. He explained that he had heard about the Lethifold (named Anubis by an Unspeakable in Oslo) and couldn’t miss the opportunity to see one up close.

 

“I’m just in time to help Sirius with your Quidditch pitch.” He winked at the older man and Katie made a small, strangled noise. Harry thought she suddenly looked smug for some reason. 

 

“We’ll see you at dinner,” Sirius added. He turned back to the pitch and Charlie’s broom lifted off the ground.

 

No matter how many times Harry asked what was going on, Katie didn’t reply, and his musings were interrupted by Draco who joined him in the lounge later. He seemed tense, so Harry massaged his shoulders while he ranted about his physics class and how Muggles were insane and how he was crazy for trying to study something so difficult. Harry relaxed with him, the silence around them and Draco’s scent helping him enter the same trance-like state that he used to build wands.

 

He had almost completely forgotten the wink and Katie’s mysterious behaviour when he felt a strong pull of pure magic. His eyes snapped open. 

 

Draco turned around. “Harry?”

 

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “I’m being called.”

 

He didn’t know why or how he was aware of it. The pull became more violent. He shuddered. Draco frowned and placed a hand on his arm, the other brushing his hair away from his face. When a sharp pain made him hiss, he somehow understood what he had to do. 

 

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ . Go find Astoria, I need her immediately.”

 

Astoria’s spider Patronus answered twenty seconds later, and when the air tore right in front of the boys, Harry could barely breathe and Draco was on the verge of panic, his wand ready. 

 

Astoria walked out of the portal, straight from Oslo, with Anubis floating above her shoulder. 

 

There was no time to ask when she had mastered this. Gritting his teeth, Harry told her what he had felt.

 

“I’m getting Father,” Draco said, his voice trembling, and he ran out of the room. Harry watched him go from the corner of his eye.

 

“Harry, I need you to breathe slowly. It’s a Ley Line reaching out to you.”

 

He knew that. He also remembered what they had discussed a long time ago, how he could use his blood to track family members through the magic running beneath the ground. But for the magic to call him? 

 

A cold weight settled in his stomach while he struggled with his breathing exercises. “Someone’s dead. Someone who shares my blood.”

 

The Dursleys.

 

“Let me follow the trail. I’ll find them.”

 

He nodded. He didn’t have the ability to think, but he felt her when she stepped into his body and took control of him for the shortest moment. He hated the sensation instantly. When she reappeared, she squeezed his hand, reopened the portal, and dove right into it.

 

 

***

 

 

Privet Drive was a revolting and unnatural place where every house could have been built using a Duplication Charm and every garden was taken care of to the extreme. Nothing was allowed to grow wild.  _ This is where creativity dies _ , Rabastan Lestrange thought, sneering at the sight from his spot against a small tree, hidden behind a Disillusionment Charm. 

 

At that time of the day, Muggle families were sharing their evening meal. It seemed that they did not just live in the same houses, they also led the same lives. How disgusting. Magnolia Crescent was empty, the skies were just starting to darken and he could hear cutlery clinking in the nearest house.

 

On the other side of the road stood Number 4, Rodolphus’ target. The Dark Lord had given him five days, but luckily for his brother, he had been granted a more urgent mission to get the Lestrange money and artefacts out of Gringotts and his grace period had been extended. This meant, however, that if he failed in his task, the man would be killed, perhaps fed to Nagini. Rabastan had been ordered not to interfere, but to be there as back-up in case the Aurors showed up.

 

It had been a surprise to find out that the wards around the house were gone, but also that the Order did not seem to care, for they had not sent anyone to keep an eye on the grotesque family the brothers had observed for the past few hours. Rabastan wondered if Harry Potter had been brainwashed by Dumbledore. Surely, any wizard raised in such a household would end up wishing their family dead.

 

He tightened his hold on his wand when his brother cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx on the street. He reinforced it so it could cover a wider area, and felt rather proud when he saw it glimmer briefly, like a bubble. The Lestrange family was powerful and feared for a reason.

 

He sometimes had traitorous thoughts and imagined how he and Rodolphus could have taken down the Dark Lord and ruled in his stead, before Azkaban weakened them, before Bellatrix put his brother on a leash.

 

His eyes fell on the older man as he entered Number 4. Not a sound went past the Silencing Charm, but he could imagine the screams, the despair, and it stank just to imagine it. 

 

The big window at the front of the house shattered and a huge boy was thrown out on the grass by a Blasting Curse, still in eerie silence. Rabastan saw a terrified woman standing in front of the Killing Curse that had been about to hit the teenager, who was now unconscious.

 

The neighbours were still blissfully unaware of the carnage, while Rabastan sneered at the massive man who was being tortured by his brother. He could see him clearly through the broken window. He rolled his eyes when Rodolphus decided to peel his skin off, and walked towards the house until he was close enough to throw a Stinging Hex at his brother’s leg. He tapped his pocket watch impatiently in response to the man’s frown. 

 

Vernon Dursley died faster than Rodolphus would have liked, but it was still too late.

 

Rabastan saw the very air opening like it was made of paper and could be torn to reveal something hidden beneath. The wind started flowing, violent enough to send shards of glass flying. He cast a Protego, and in a flash, he witnessed a small girl, barely a woman, grab hold of the unconscious boy. Neither he nor his brother could move, but he watched everything, feeling like time was moving slower for him. 

 

The hole in the air swallowed both teenagers and time went back to its normal rhythm. With a quick movement, a last minute thought, Rabastan cast a Tracking Charm on Dudley Dursley just before he vanished completely. He hoped it wasn’t too much interference for their Lord.

 

He heard his brother swear when the SIlencing Charm broke. They took down the Anti-Apparition Jinx, cast the Dark Mark above the house and set the entire construction on fire.


	9. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're squeamish, there's quite a bit of blood in there and some nasty wounds that I do not describe.

The first thought that crossed Draco’s mind when Astoria reappeared with the unconscious Muggle boy was how she had managed to carry him when she was so tiny. He barely repressed a sneer at the sight. This was the boy who had tormented Harry for so long. It was perhaps hypocritical of him, given how he had acted at Hogwarts, but while Draco had been a nasty little git, he had never jumped on him to break his ribs.

 

Harry didn’t speak of his childhood often. What little Draco knew made it incredibly difficult to feel any kind of sympathy for the lump whose body was covered in cuts. He kept his thoughts to himself and tightened his hold on Harry, who couldn’t stop staring at his cousin.

 

Crowfeet and Terence were healing the cuts and Sirius stood guard, waiting for Tonks. Until she gave the Secret to the Muggle, he would be unable to enter the domain, so Astoria had brought him at the edge of the wards. Flitwick was casting temporary protection spells around them, just in case.

 

No one else had been informed of the scary event that took place a few minutes ago in the lounge. Charlie could still be seen flying around the future Quidditch pitch. Draco's friends were in Potions class with Gnedykh and the new arrivals had a free period for self-study. It seemed so strange that more than half of them had no idea that something sinister had just happened - he guessed it must have felt that way for Harry when he killed the Basilisk or Quirrell while everyone else just went to class.

 

He heard Astoria and Sirius talking and he listened while gently rubbing Harry’s back.

 

“I didn’t see much. One Death Eater, perhaps two. Both adults are dead. Dudley was already unconscious outside; I just took him with me.”

 

“How?” He bit his lower lip and cursed himself for being insensitive, but Harry merely snorted.

 

“Magic.”

 

Well, that explained it.

 

“My aunt is dead,” Harry said, and Draco hated the lack of emotion in his voice. “She’s dead because I left, so the Blood Wards around the house fell.”

 

With a deep frown, the Pureblood took a few steps back, dragging him away with him, and turned around to kiss him. He gazed at his gorgeous green eyes, wide behind his glasses. “Hey. They could have killed them at any point when they left the house. The Dark Lord is trying to get a reaction out of you.”

 

“Should have chosen a target I cared about.” He sighed and shuddered, so Draco kissed him again until he went limp against him. “I hate that I’m not sad.”

 

“They abused you. I’m sorry that your mother’s sister is gone, but I’m not sorry that the woman who thought it was alright to strike a child with a frying pan and starve him has been killed. And I know you feel the same way.”

 

He nodded jerkily and sniffled, but his eyes stayed dry. “Uncle Vernon was- fuck him. But she- she could have loved me, you know?”

 

 _But she didn’t_ , Draco thought bitterly, hugging him tightly. He understood more than he ever thought he would. Harry was a reflection of how himself had felt about Lucius, but Draco, at least, had good memories of his childhood.

 

There was the sound of a Portkey and Tonks rushed towards them, her hair bright blue and standing in spikes on her head. Draco heard Harry’s cousin grunting and took it as a cue to go back inside. He needed to take care of Harry right now and he didn’t care about anything else. Especially not a bunch of Muggles who made his boyfriend’s life hell for so long.

 

When Sirius’ eyes met his, he knew they were sharing the same resentment. Harry was their priority.

 

 

***

 

 

“-And the Wizengamot session is tomorrow, my Lord. I’m confident that most of us will vote against the new law.”

 

“Yes, Yaxley, I believe so myself. I trust you to start a discussion about Hogwarts. I’ve heard that students are not able to contact the outside world as they wish.”

 

“It would seem so indeed.”

 

“Mail tampering, wasn’t it, Severus?”

 

Rabastan was completely still next to the Potions Master, the only Death Eater aside from Bellatrix who did not wear a mask today. A soft agreement came out of his mouth. He was lucky: The Dark Lord was delighted to know that he made himself useful and worked against the Ministry within the castle. Once Yaxley was dismissed, dread pooled in the younger Lestrange’s stomach. The malevolent gleam of their Lord’s eyes rested on Rodolphus, who took two steps forward and fell to his knees.

 

“My Lord, the Potter boy’s family is dead.”

 

The white wand they all feared slowly came out of the Dark Lord’s sleeve. “Truly, Rodolphus? Because I have heard that the boy escaped.”

 

Rabastan felt a twinge of terror.

  

 “Tell me, Rodolphus- why do you believe it wise to lie to me?”

 

“My Lord, he had help, he-”

 

“I am not asking how he left, I am asking why you tried to hide it. I have given you a simple order. Kill three Muggles. Not athletes, not military personnel or anyone who could fight you. Three Muggles, two of which can barely drag themselves around. You failed once. I gave you five days. I then thought it necessary to give you another mission, and you were granted even more time. Have I not been lenient?”

 

The silhouette under the long black cloak was shaking violently. It disgusted Rabastan. This pathetic man crawling at the Dark Lord’s feet was not his brother, it was a shell, damaged by years in Azkaban, so pitiful and weak. Yet he still loved him. After this meeting, he would bring him home and nurse him back to health.

 

He could even sing him to sleep, couldn’t he? Rodolphus had done it for him, long ago.

 

The Cruciatus hit its target and Rabastan decided to practice, to sing to himself to cover his brother’s screams. The same melody that soothed his nightmares when he was a little child.

 

_There were three ravens sat on a tree,_

_downe a downe, hay downe, a downe,_

 

The Dark Lord’s magic coiled around him like a vice, his Mark burnt, but he kept looking.

 

_They were as black as they might be._

_with a downe, downe, downe_

 

Rodolphus choked when Bellatrix joined in, her wand looking like a gnarled branch, channelling the red curse gleefully.

 

_Then one of them said to his mate,_

_Where shall we now our breakfast take?_

_With a downe, derrie, derrie, downe, downe._

 

He ignored the sounds, the acrid smell of urine, the sense of wrongness that twisted his guts. Behind his mask, he shed a tear.

 

_Down in yonder dear green field,_

_downe a downe, hay downe, a downe,_

 

When the first bone broke, he closed his eyes.

 

_There lies a Knight slain under his shield,_

_with a downe, downe, downe_

 

He didn’t open them again, even when the screams stopped, even when the spells changed, and the scent of bloodshed reached him. He knew his brother would not go home with him tonight.

 

_His hounds they lie down at his feet,_

_So well do they their Master keep,_

_With a downe, derrie, derrie, downe, downe._

 

“Rabastan!”

 

The tune stayed in his mind, repeating itself over and over again, his brother’s voice so young in his memories. He was made to kneel in Rodolphus’ warm blood and he didn’t look at his body, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands. They were pale and bony, and by some miracle, they were not shaking. He was numb.

 

“Yes, My Lord.”

 

He didn’t recognise his own voice.

 

“You are the new Head of the Lestrange family. Open up Lestrange Manor for me, I grow tired of residing here. I shall visit tomorrow. You are all dismissed. Nagini! Dinner is served.”

 

He Apparated before anyone could present their sympathies for his loss. Not that they would, unless they wished to follow Rodolphus in death, but some might try to convey their feelings by brushing against him. He had no patience for that, not today.

 

Lestrange Manor stood in a valley under heavy Blood Wards. The forest around it was thick, dark and housed magical creatures who sometimes visited the grounds. Much more dignified than a bunch of albino peacocks. Rabastan stopped in front of the metallic gate, sliced open his palm and pressed it against the locking mechanism. It opened slowly.

 

He made his way towards the house, feeling like he was dreaming. His movements were slightly sluggish, like when he escaped Azkaban and had the ability to move freely again. The gardens were overgrown, ivy was attempting to swallow the entire manor. He and Rodolphus had not been back there since they joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, but the house was still breathing, and there had to be at least one Elf left to bring the money to their secret vault. Rodolphus’ mission, taking their Galleons out of Gringotts, meant it had been used once more.

 

On the far right, he spotted the cemetery and bit back a snarl. His brother would not be laid to rest there. He was currently being digested by a sodding snake. So much for being a faithful follower for so long, for going to Azkaban instead of claiming to be under the influence of the Imperius Curse.

 

He did not enter the main building, choosing instead to take the path to the lower level. Blood Magic allowed him access to the ritual chamber, where he threw his mask and cloak on the floor. He locked the door and started tracing runes in a circle around himself.

 

“I call the magic of the House of Lestrange. I, last of my name, claim these lands as mine.”

 

The walls and floor vibrated. He cast a Numbing Charm on his left arm, took a deep breath, and sliced it off with a hex, just below the elbow. The Charm helped tremendously. All he could feel was an enormous pressure. It fell with a dull thud, blood pouring down until Rabastan cauterised the wound. He swayed on his feet, his skin clammy, sweat pooling on his forehead, but there was no pain.

 

“I banish those who wear this Mark. I banish the Dark Lord, his allies and creations. I dissolve the bond between Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange. May she rot in Hell for her actions.”

 

His forearm, laying in a pool of blood, was instantly consumed by black flames.

 

“I am named Secret Keeper of Lestrange Manor. _Alto Fidelius._ ”

 

He felt the magic thrum and take hold, and his energy dropped suddenly, leaving him sprawled on the floor gasping for breath.

 

 

***

 

 

“Master Rabastan is being awake!”

 

“Wizzy is being so happy!”

 

“Master Rabastan must not do this again or Flippy is going to be angry.”

 

He woke up to find three aging, eager elves staring at him, but he was too tired to react with more than a sigh. He looked around, discovering that the room he had been brought in had been his father’s chambers. Glancing at his arm, he found his stump bandaged and throbbing. A couple of minutes went by and the fog in his brain cleared up.

 

“What are you all doing here?” he asked when none of the creatures seemed willing to leave the room.

 

“It is the house, Master. It is trying to destroy the Dark Lord’s creation, but it is failing. It is becoming agitated, Master.”

 

He coughed and tried to sit up. They hurried to place pillows behind his back to support him. “What creation?” His father had known the Dark Lord at Hogwarts, so perhaps he had been entrusted with a cursed object?

 

“The Cup in the Vault, Master. Master Rodolphus is transferring it from Gringotts last week. It is being very bad magic, Master.”

 

He had a flash of a golden cup with two handles and a badger between Bella’s hands, when she was young and slightly less unhinged. “Why can’t it be destroyed? I thought the wards would take care of it.”

 

“We is not knowing. But we has heard that it is very precious to the Dark One. Very, very precious.”

 

A burning hatred squeezed his throat. Oh, he could destroy it on his own, of course, but why not offer it to someone else? A present for the only one the Dark Lord had ever feared. Fitting.

 

He laughed darkly.

 

When the Elves vanished to prepare his meal, he remembered the Muggle boy and the incredible feat of magic that had whisked him away. Somewhere secure, perhaps… with his cousin. Once again, laughter bubbled up in his chest and the image of a messy-haired, green-eyed boy danced in his mind.

 

He would bring the Dark Lord’s precious cup to the Boy-Who-Lived.

 

 

***

 

 

“ _The Ministry advises caution after the Dark Mark was sighted above the home of Harry Potter’s Muggle family last night. The search for Sirius Black, believed to be behind the attack, is still ongoing, Minister Fudge asks the public to trust the DMLE. This reporter can’t help but ask if this isn’t the work of Harry Potter himself - a way to go even further in his lies? After all, what better way to keep suspicions away from him, than to kill his own family?_   This is rubbish!”

 

Draco plucked the Daily Prophet out of Theo’s hands and ripped it in half before Sirius could do it himself. The older man was fuming. Fuck Rita Skeeter. Fuck her and Fudge and Wizarding Britain and Voldemort. How dare they! He blamed Dumbledore for bringing the newspaper with hi enjoying cup of tea with most of the teenagers, Draco’s mother, and Professor Flitwick.

 

Sirius wished Remus could be there to calm him down. Or Charlie. Yes, the Dragon tamer had that same gift, a voice that could make him forget his anger.

 

When he met Remus on the Hogwarts Express, his words had felt like balm for his bruised spirit. He was just eleven and already so lost. And when he met Charlie during an Order meeting shortly after Voldemort’s return, when he was suffering so much from Dementor exposure, he felt comfortable for the first time in years. Charlie and Moony, both so different, soothed him like no one else could.

 

With Remus spending time at Lilium, he got used to having one of them around. After he left, he basked in the presence of his adopted son and godson, but something was missing, a little bit of peace that shone brightly as soon as he ran into the redhead in Oslo. Harry’s birthday in St. Petersburg confirmed it: his emotions were completely under control with Charlie.

 

So, they stayed in contact, didn’t tell anyone, and Sirius fell for the younger man quickly. He thought about his smile when they worked together to build the Quidditch pitch, then remembered how they had spent all night talking quietly in the lounge. Charlie was now resting upstairs, hangover, and Sirius hoped he would stay a bit longer.

 

His breathing slowed down and allowed him to stay in Dumbledore’s vicinity without cursing the old man.

 

Draco turned into Teeth and set out to destroy the piece of printed crap that British wizards trusted blindly. Sirius understood. It was much more satisfying to do this as an animal.

 

Thankfully, Harry hadn’t heard any of this. He was with his cousin in the infirmary, because his bleeding heart wanted to be there when he woke up. Sirius didn’t fight him on this, it was his choice.

 

Teeth gathered the scraps and pushed them off the table, where they were happily received by Perseus who now had a new game to play for the next hour. Jumping from the table to the floor, he turned into Draco and sniffed.

 

“Such a wonderful transformation, Draco, my boy!” The Headmaster was beaming.

 

Sirius rolled his eyes and Draco blushed.

 

Blaise snickered. “You should see Astoria’s form, Sir.”

 

“Oh, yes, she is absolutely adorable,” Narcissa agreed with a small smile. She was holding Hydrus, who was rather cranky, while Cepheus napped in his pram. “I had never seen a chinchilla before.”

 

Sirius tuned them out. He was proud of his son for achieving his Animagus transformation last year, but right now he wanted everyone to leave, not discuss mundane topics. Not when Harry’s family had been savagely murdered.

 

After a while, he just couldn’t take it anymore and stood up. “Albus, I need to talk to you.” He didn’t wait for a response and left the room. He waited a few seconds, nodded at the old man who had followed him, and invited him inside one of the conference rooms behind the old reception desk. He closed the door.

 

“ _Muffliato._ Why are you here, Albus?” He glanced at the blackened hand that the Headmaster wasn’t hiding.    

 

“I thought it best to inform you in person.”

 

“You didn’t and you know it. You haven’t even seen Harry yet. Surely that would be a priority if this was the reason for your visit.”

 

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head slowly, then removed his glasses and cleaned them absently. “I know you have Dudley Dursley here and I want to know how. I found unfamiliar traces of magic near the house.”

 

Sirius bit the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from swearing. He truly didn’t want him to know about Astoria, but he couldn't lie to him either.

 

“Sirius, has Harry seen this in a vision and sent for help?”

 

“If you are asking if the Horcrux is still there, it's not.”

 

“I would appreciate the truth, then. Surely you understand my worries. You are teaching dangerous magic to these children, Sirius. Do not think I have not seen the Lethifold when I arrived.”

 

The twinkle was gone, and Sirius shifted. “I swear to you, there is nothing on our curriculum that can harm them. They are however free to study anything on their own. There’s a monitoring spell on the Dark Arts books and on anything I took from Grimmauld and the Black Vaults. We trust them, but not that much. I can guarantee you that so far, only Vitaly, Andi and Remus have touched these books. Some of them are safe at the bank and I do not intend to take them out. In the meantime, how dare you fear for these students’ safety when you didn’t give a fuck about it in Hogwarts?”

 

“Sirius, I know I have made mistakes, and I have apologised for them. Try to see the situation from my point of view. I have a Muggle boy who was transported to another country without the use of a Portkey or Apparition, leaving behind a barren spot where everything died and will not regrow. This is not simple Dark Arts.”

 

He didn’t know what to do anymore and fidgeted, pulling at his hair. “Can you swear not to force the people involved to fight for you?”

 

The twinkle came back. “I will not force anyone.”

 

“Really? Because you were intent on making Harry kill Snakeface before.”

 

“This is a moot point now. I will not force Harry, or any of your students, to fight Voldemort, unless they join the Order willingly once they are of age. I do hope the war will be over by then.”

 

“I won’t forgive you if you use what I am about to tell you.”

 

And he talked.

 

 

***

 

 

“How is he?” Draco asked softly.

 

Harry kicked a pebble, hands deep in his pockets, Draco walking by his side. “He’s drugged. Calming Draught. He kicked Tonks in the face when she woke him up.”

 

“Well, she needed to tell him the Secret, so…”

 

Draco spotted a small smile on the other boy’s lips. It would take some time before Harry understood that he had nothing to feel guilty about, but Draco would be there every step of the way. He loved him too much to let him beat himself up over something he couldn’t have stopped.

 

His family wasn’t worth it.

 

He shivered when they left the wards, because it always felt like a feather brushing his skin and he didn’t like it. But Harry wanted to walk along the coast for a while to clear his thoughts, so even if Draco would prefer using his moped, he put on sturdy shoes and didn’t complain about using his feet and crushing plants if they strayed off the path.

 

Harry bent down to pick up a small fern and played with it, an arm finding its way around Draco’s waist.

 

“Thanks for coming with me.”

 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for not shutting me out.”

 

“Hey, I learned to stop doing that. You’re one to talk.”

 

“Prat.”

 

“Git.”

 

“Just git, not pointy?”

 

“You’re not pointy anymore, just curly.”

 

“I’m- that’s- you can’t use that word to describe someone’s face.”

 

“I was talking about your hair.”

 

The Slytherin let out a squeak and tried to flatten his unruly mop. He didn’t put much effort into it, because Harry was laughing, and anything that made him smile was worth looking like he hadn’t brushed his hair in days. He stopped walking and stepped in front of him. Harry kissed him first, still snickering.

 

“Love you.” Draco opened his mouth and sucked on his lower lip. When they broke apart, Harry’s eyes were almost glowing.

 

And someone started clapping, startling them enough to make both draw their wands and aim them at the intruder.

 

“Wasn’t this just adorable?” the man crowed.

 

Draco’s spine straightened. There was something about him, a wildness he had sometimes seen in Sirius’ demeanour, but more than that- there was no trace of a foreign accent. Draco would have bet that he was from Norfolk. They had been found. And neither of them could Apparate.

 

Harry subtly placed himself in front of him. “Who are you?”

 

The visitor cackled. Draco dragged Harry back, because he would not let him be his shield.

 

“You do not need to fear me. I am not armed. See?” He opened his palm, as he only had one hand, and indeed, he had no wand. But it didn’t mean much, not when wandless magic was a thing. Tormented eyes stared at Draco. “My, my, aren’t you the little Malfoy boy?”

 

“ _Petrificus Totalus_!”

 

The spell missed its target when he Apparated a few inches to the side. Harry tried again, and Draco joined him, but he kept disappearing and reappearing and never once attempted to disarm them.

 

“I can do this all day, you know. How about you just call someone here? I’d take a vow not to hurt you but, you know, you’re being a tad difficult.”

 

Draco gritted his teeth and cast his Dragon Patronus, ordering it to get Dumbledore. He started walking backwards, hoping the wards weren’t too far and could protect them both, but Harry was too slow, still attempting to cast anything to bind him.

 

Barely a minute passed, and suddenly the small path was filled with a group of adults, ready to strike. Draco tugged at Harry’s sleeve. The younger boy nodded, and they ran.

 

They stopped under the wards. Harry looked furious. “That cheater! I couldn’t hit him with one spell!”

 

“Yes, but Apparition isn’t really part of Duelling.”

 

“It bloody well should be. I’m adding it to my lesson plan.”

 

They turned around and stared at the group. The man had been subdued, but they could hear him insist to speak to one or two people, not the entire Order. Draco froze. How did he know about this?

 

And then he remembered.

 

One of the most skilled duellists to have attended Hogwarts in the past fifty years was renowned for his unorthodox methods to escape spells, and not because he was participating in tournaments, but because he had been a nightmare to catch in 1981. Lucius had often sung his praises.

 

That man was Rabastan Lestrange, and Draco felt like throwing up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Rabastan is singing to himself is the Three Ravens. The version I like the most is too recent to have been sung to him as a child, but the lyrics remain the same, so if you wonder how it sounds in my head, I recommend checking out Winterfylleth's version.


	10. Unlikely Ally

“It would be so much easier if you let me inside whatever this place is. Come on, it’s starting to rain.”

 

“Over my dead body!” Sirius snarled.

 

Tonks kept her wand pointed at Rabastan’s heart, all her years of Auror training and field work rushing through her head. He didn’t seem like a threat without his left arm and in his current posture, and his wand was currently held by Sirius. But this man was unpredictable, one of the most dangerous Death Eaters at Voldemort’s service and she would not let him take her by surprise. Dumbledore was facing him, demanding to know how he found them. Both Sirius and Tonks stood behind him, leaving a certain distance between them to avoid getting caught by the same curse if he chose to send one wandlessly.

 

She wondered if he had followed her here if he knew someone at the Portkey office. But no, that would mean Voldemort had spies all over Europe with the same job, surely he hadn’t infiltrated Russia or Norway yet! They would have been found out much sooner.

 

Surprisingly, Rabastan didn’t try to conceal anything, and just said he had placed a Tracking Charm on Dudley before he was whisked away. He then had to wait until someone breached the wards. He knew something was there because he had tried going through them and had received a nasty shock before Harry and Draco decided to take a romantic afternoon stroll.

 

“Why are you here alone?” Tonks asked. According to his file at the Ministry, he always accompanied his brother and was never seen on his own. She feared that Rodolphus or worse, Bellatrix, would suddenly appear.

 

“Seriously, it’s raining, let me in.”

 

She sent a painful Stinging Hex at his remaining hand and he hissed between his teeth. “I’m not here to fight or spy or anything else you might be imagining. I am bringing you something the Dark Lord considers invaluable.”

 

Sirius barked a laugh and from the corner of her eye, she saw him move closer to the Death Eater and press the tip of his wand against his neck strongly enough to make it look painful. “Well? Let’s see it then!”

 

Rabastan sighed dramatically. Slowly, he opened the small bag hanging from his left shoulder. Tonks followed his every move with a well-trained eye. He then carefully extracted a bundle of fabric, shook it slightly to part the folds without touching its contents, and unveiled a gold cup.

 

She heard Dumbledore gasp, and when she observed it, she remembered the painting of her House Founder. “That’s Hufflepuff's cup!” she exclaimed. 

 

“It’s cursed, so I would advise against touching it.”

 

“Do you know what this is?” Dumbledore asked, and she could swear he was having trouble catching his breath.

 

Rabastan shrugged. “All I know is that he gave it to Bellatrix in '79 and told her to safeguard it with her life. She placed it in our family vault at Gringotts.”

 

Sirius exchanged a glance with the Headmaster. Tonks was out of her depth here, but she understood that it must have been an incredibly important object, and she couldn’t understand why he would bring it to them. Dumbledore asked the same question with steel in his voice, and Rabastan suddenly snarled, startling them all.

 

“Why? The Dark Lord killed my brother! I want him dead and I will do anything to make it happen!”

 

Tonks raised an eyebrow. “Even subject yourself to Veritaserum?”

 

“Ha! Veritaserum can be fought. I’m an Occlumens. I’ll swear an Unbreakable Vow.”

 

“Well,” Dumbledore said, as Sirius relaxed the pressure on the Death Eater’s neck, “Mister Lestrange-”

 

“That is Lord Lestrange, sir.”

 

“Lord Lestrange, I am sorry to hear about your brother-”

 

Sirius snorted.

 

“Save your platitudes for someone who cares. Do you truly enjoy standing in the rain? Make me swear a Vow.”

 

“Surely that won’t be necessary.”

 

Tonks gasped in outrage. What was the Headmaster thinking? To her surprise (she was getting tired of being taken aback), Rabastan started laughing madly. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he said. “Are you telling me you do not ask anyone to swear their loyalty to the Order? No, of course, you don’t, Severus wouldn’t have been able to. Still don’t know which side he’s on.”

 

“I find this Vow cruel, Lord Lestrange. Even Voldemort doesn’t use it.”

 

“The Dark Lord’s Mark cannot be given to those who don’t wish to serve him. They have to be genuine to join him. While it isn’t foolproof, isn’t it better than trusting people blindly? If you had asked for a Vow during the First War, James and Lily Potter might still be alive.”

 

That was not a wise thing to say, because Sirius looked like he was seconds away from killing both Rabastan and Dumbledore. Tonks felt a chill run down her spine when her cousin turned to face the Headmaster and spit on the ground. “Albus, if you do not make him swear a Vow, I am leaving Europe and taking the kids with me to let you deal with Snakeface on your own. And I’ll kill him.” He jerked his chin towards the youngest Lestrange.

 

Tonks had rarely seen the old man so disappointed. He still accepted to act as a bonder, and raised his wand as Sirius spoke:

 

“Will you, Rabastan Flavius Lestrange, swear to protect the Tranquil Spire Hotel Domain, its secrets, its location, its visitors, its employees, its servants and its residents, humans and non-humans, to the best of your abilities and until you are released from this Vow?”

 

“I will.”

 

“Will you swear to bring them no harm, through action or inaction, through spoken, written, enchanted or signed words, magic or symbols, unless one of them turns against the others?”

 

“I will.”

 

“Will you swear to fight against Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort, and his followers?”

 

“I will.”

 

The tendrils of magic tied Sirius and Rabastan’s hands together and the Vow settled. Dumbledore sighed sadly and Tonks reluctantly gave him the Secret. 

 

Sirius handed him his wand back. “I’m keeping an eye on you. Don’t think I forgot about Frank and Alice.”

 

“To my defence, I do not  _ torture _ people, I kill them. I was standing guard while others had their fun.”

 

“Oh, yes, because that’s so much better. Do you think we’ll just let you go free after this is over?”

 

“Of course not, Black. I am however hoping that you will be kind enough to imprison me in a place where I will be treated like a human being. You, of all people, know what Azkaban does to our mind.” 

 

This made Tonks frown. “You don’t expect amnesty?”

 

“Why would I? Plead guilty then, not about to change now.”

 

 

***

 

 

Draco and Harry had been hiding in their Animagus forms for the entire exchange and scurried away when the Death Eater was allowed to enter the wards. They understood that he had brought a Horcrux with him, but what was the point of inviting him in? Of giving him his wand back? Apparently, their worries were shared within the group of students who were now gathered in one of the biggest bedrooms, next to Narcissa’s on the third floor. It was a quadruple room that Kreacher, Mopsy and Toppy had only recently cleaned and refurbished. 

 

Evander was learning to braid Katie’s hair under Daphne’s guidance, as the presence of a Death Eater among them threatened to lead him to a panic attack. Theo, Adrian, Millicent and Pansy ranted at length about various topics, from the risks Rabastan created for them, to Dumbledore’s fake disposition towards Slytherin students (he wasn’t supposed to act so grandfatherly, not when he had enjoyed robbing Slytherin of the House Cup since 1992). They were loud enough to force Blaise into casting a Silencing Charm after a few minutes.

 

Harry would have participated in their heated discussion if he had not been utterly exhausted. He kept dozing off against Draco’s shoulder and blamed it on the stressful situation they’d just been in, but truthfully he had been feeling a little off before the encounter. He didn’t tell anyone how he had been sick several times when he was waiting for Dudley to wake up. 

 

When he suddenly found his surroundings fuzzy, he attempted to clean his glasses, only to realise he wasn’t able to stop swaying. It happened too fast to warn his friends. He was vaguely aware that he had emptied the contents of his stomach again, that he was no longer fully awake and that several hands were touching him, but he was too sick to care. 

 

 

***

 

 

Sirius was pacing. Rabastan had taken another Vow, swearing to tell the truth as he knew it, and an impromptu Order meeting was taking place while the Death Eater was playing with his wand. The dog Animagus didn’t understand why he had been invited inside exactly, but it wasn’t like he could betray them without killing himself in the process. Even if he somehow found a loophole and managed to send information to Voldemort, he couldn’t give the location of the hotel. They would be under siege, surely, but the Fidelius would hold and the Scandinavian Ministry would react. 

 

Still, it didn’t mean he had to like any of it.

 

So far, Rabastan had revealed enough to prevent a few deaths in the near future. The few Order members on site were gathered in their usual conference room inside the school, discussing the points their visitor had brought up.

 

The most important one for them was about international Portkeys and Floo travel, or rather, about the person who had just found employment in the Department of Magical Transportation: Lucian Bole, who graduated from Hogwarts in 1995 and proudly bore the Dark Mark. Eager to please, with a family name that opened the right doors and a few whispered suggestions from certain Lords of the Wizengamot, he had an amazing opportunity to prove himself.

 

It meant they could no longer move back and forth between countries. Even blurring the lines by Portkeying to several different countries was becoming risky. So far, no one had been traced and Tonks had been careful enough to disguise her moves under the cover of a mission, even when it was urgent. Amelia Bones’ contacts in Denmark and Sirius’ acquaintances with the Norwegian Branch of the Scandinavian Ministry would be helpful in the future, no doubt. Tonks still said she would have to restrain her travel from now on, and there would be no more Order meetings where everyone would be required to be in London.

 

Sirius introduced the idea of conference calls. Blood purists would be unable to trace them and Voldemort would never suspect it. Dumbledore agreed happily, appearing quite fascinated by the device, and Tonks was tasked with finding a Muggle building to ward and put under Fidelius somewhere in the United Kingdom. Following this, the Head of the Black family also decided to use Muggle transportation if they needed to travel outside the country’s borders. He shuddered when Rabastan laughed and said the Dark Lord would never see it coming.

 

Another element brought to the table was the fact that Voldemort was not ready to come out of hiding. Instead of random raids and acts of violence, he was taking the more subtle route this time, placing his pawns exactly where he wanted them, with Yaxley replacing Malfoy as Fudge’s advisor. While his followers slowly infiltrating the government and the press doing everything to discredit Harry and Dumbledore, Britain would soon be completely under his control, and they wouldn’t even know it. Rabastan revealed how he didn’t appreciate the use of the Dark Mark above a victim’s home anymore, and how it might have been part of the reason why Rodolphus had been killed. Deaths were still occurring but they were supposed to look like accidents. It was luck for their enemy that Fudge and Skeeter had decided to put everything on Sirius’ shoulders. The public was blind.

 

In the absence of their Magical Children Registry, that showed the name of a child as soon as he had his first bout of accidental magic and that had been stolen by Amelia when she had been fired, a new law was in the works: it would require each Muggleborn to register, much like Magical Creatures. It bothered Sirius much more than the law against practical magic for underage magicians that would be voted on today. Strangely enough, their Death Eater guest said that the idea wasn’t Voldemort’s. Snape, who could only act as a double agent thanks to a specially crafted loophole in the Fidelius on Grimmauld Place, had already reported that Voldemort would probably act soon to take control of Hogwarts and turn it back into a school if the Toad and the Board of Governors didn’t stop their nonsense. It was creepy to agree with the monster on something.

 

“Alright,” Tonks stood up before Dumbledore could ask how to use the phone for their future conferences. “If I summarize quickly: Voldy’s lost five Inner Circle Death Eaters in less than a year: Malfoy, both Lestrange brothers, Rookwood, Crouch Jr. That’s good for us, but he will replace them. He’s recruiting heavily and a lot of his new followers are still at Hogwarts. Thanks to Rabastan for the names. He’s working in a way that could mean he could be at the head of Wizarding Britain before we realise it, he’s looking for Cepheus and Hydrus, and Bella needs to be cast out of the Black family. We can’t cross the British border anymore, and we should start using Muggle technology if we want to stay ahead in the war. Oh, and people are getting anxious about their money being held hostage, Voldy included.”

 

Sirius nodded grimly, planning on visiting the Arctic Dwarven Bank to disown his cousin after using magic to strip her of her heritage. Now that Rabastan had dissolved her marriage, she would turn towards her birth family for resources. “Well, I guess that’s it then. Albus, if you want a room here, just say the words.”

 

“That would be a kindness, my boy.”

 

“Charlie, the same goes for you.”

 

The redhead winked and Sirius wished he wasn’t blushing like a fifteen-year-old with a crush. He did not do  _ crushes _ , thank you very much. “Sure. I’ll still be in Romania most of the time, but I can attend Order meetings here.”

 

Tonks took a deep breath and stared at their guest. “Lestrange, as much as it pains me to say it, thank you for everything you told us.”

 

The man snorted inelegantly. “Yeah, kill the bastard and I’ll consider us even. Can I recommend something, since you’re all friends with Ministry workers here?” He waited until Dumbledore told him to continue. “Get them to install a Dark Mark ward.”

 

Dumbledore protested: such wards were erected through ritual magic and were outlawed. Of course, Sirius had to sneer at that and remind him that they were not subject to the laws of their backward Ministry here, that Dark magic was actually permitted to some degree and that if he kept on rejecting every way they could save themselves, it meant he hoped to win the war with Tickling Charms. He imagined that the old man was now used to not getting his way because he didn’t argue with him. 

 

Sirius had no time to feel vindicated because Theo’s Patronus burst in and announced that Harry had fainted and was in the infirmary. He didn’t wait to see anyone’s reaction: he Apparated directly in Crowfeet’s domain.

 

Terence merely raised an eyebrow, adjusting the pillow under Harry’s head. 

 

He rushed to the boy’s side, finding him too pale. “What happened?”

 

“He had a sudden fever spike and lost consciousness. He’s dehydrated. Crowfeet is running some tests.”

 

Without looking away from Harry, Sirius sat on a chair next to the bed and squeezed his hand. He could feel the heat through his skin. “Aren’t you going to reduce his temperature?”

 

“Not until we know what we’re dealing with. If it gets too high, we’ll lower it.”

 

He grunted and tried to keep his mind occupied. He asked where Draco was (worried out of his mind and locked in with his mother and brothers to calm down) and barely noticed when Charlie joined him and kept him company, quiet but reassuring.

 

In the nearest bed, Dudley was snoring, and if Sirius was honest with himself, he felt a twinge of sympathy for his godson’s bully. Even in his sleep, he looked terrified.

 

It took too long, but eventually, Crowfeet came back with the results. Harry’s magic and body had not been ready for the feat he had performed to find his cousin. He had dabbled in a power he barely understood, encouraged by a Lethifold and a girl who was still far from a Mastery in Death Magic, or whatever she was working on to be a full-on Priestess. 

 

Harry was not in danger. Crowfeet administered a Fever Reducer, now that he knew it wouldn’t affect him negatively, and recommended that the boy cease teaching and overworking himself. Sirius agreed wholeheartedly. He just wasn’t looking forward to Harry’s anger. 

 

The man also swore to speak to Astoria. He didn’t think he would let Harry work with her anymore if this was the result. Deep down, he knew it could have been serious. He had no idea why. A combination of recent events made him uneasy, and while the Lethifold was acting like a good pet, he couldn’t help but think it might not be such a good idea to keep a Reaper among them.

 

At some point in the next hour, he found his other hand held by Charlie, and some of his dark thoughts vanished.  


	11. Detention

Never had the first month of school passed so slowly for the students of Hogwarts. There was no Quidditch anymore: The Board of Governors had gladly accepted Umbridge’s anti-magic campaign thanks to a detailed report, year by year, of all injuries received in the classrooms and corridors, and their approval had sparked the creation of the Students’ Safety Program, led by Percy Weasley. Quidditch caused too many accidents. Bludgers in particular could lead to death.

 

When the news reached the Daily Prophet, much later than anticipated due to the unofficial restrictions on communication, several citizens were quoted, arguing that the Ministry had brought the Triwizard Tournament back without a care for the competitors’ lives and were now scared of a bunch of children hurting themselves when they had no trouble pitching them against nesting Dragons two years ago. Unfortunately, many others approved. The Board used Cedric Diggory’s death as an excuse, explaining that it had taught him the errors of their ways.

 

Understandably, Amos Diggory and his wife were incensed, and it was reported that the latest Wizengamot session saw strange alliances developing between Lords at the opposite ends of the political spectrum. But the balance was still in favour of the Board, and Fudge didn’t want to risk losing the public’s approval by siding against them.

 

The good news was that the vote for the ridiculous law against underage magic failed spectacularly, but few people were surprised.

 

While the members of the Defence Club eagerly awaited their new wands, the Inquisitorial Squad ruled with an iron fist, replacing the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl. Composed notably of Marietta Edgecombe, Zacharias Smith, Graham Montague and Kenneth Towler - one leader for each House, it wasn’t taken seriously, until a student they caught out of the dorms after curfew came back from her detention too traumatised to speak of it.

 

It was Luna Lovegood, and she had been looking for her school trunk near the lake.

 

She didn’t fit Umbridge’s definition of the ideal Hogwarts student. Actually, she didn’t fit any norm and had suffered for it, immensely. But until now, Luna had been invisible, known only by her year mates as the insane but harmless girl they’d rather not talk to, or by her Housemates who either ignored her or bullied her. It was a game to them. Bullying Loony Lovegood. She didn’t react the way a sane teenager would, and it was entertaining, so why would they stop? She never seemed to care.

 

Tonight, however, it had been too much for her. Her belongings were always stolen, usually one shoe at a time, but the girls in her dorm had sought a reaction and had dropped her entire trunk in the lake. It contained knick-knacks belonging to her mother.

 

Instead of going back to Ravenclaw Tower after her detention, she had been found in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room by Neville, who was just opening the portrait to let Lavender’s cat out for the evening.

 

She had no visible mark, no trace of Blood Quill on her hands, and all she did was admire the common room and say that Wrackspurts didn’t gather here as much as they did in her dormitory. She sat on a rocking chair and made herself comfortable, playing with the hole at the top of her right sock. Although she seemed healthy, anyone who had paid her any attention in the past could see that something was wrong. Ron ignored the Chess pieces currently destroying each other on the board in front of him, frowning, deep in thoughts. Neville kept glancing at the girl nervously.

 

Eventually, it was Ginny who broke the uneasy silence. “Really, you’re all hopeless. Hey Luna.”

 

“You know, the Nargles like you better now.”

 

She tried not to roll her eyes, stole a giant pillow before Dean could use it, and plopped down on it, grinning at the blonde girl. The Lovegoods lived rather close to the Burrow and Ginny had been Luna’s friend for years; they were both attending the same day school, an unofficial organisation where parents who could spare the time taught their children basic maths and language skills. She remembered that Luna liked learning about plants and that she had always been a little odd when they played together. The stories she invented, the creatures she spoke of, were fantastic when they were small.

 

Then, one day, Luna’s mother died, and the girl changed. She was still strange, only now she insisted that the animals she saw were real. They were getting too old to pretend that their entire world was filled with Muttering Bibibees and Nargles and Wrackspurts and whatever else she thought she had seen. At first, she tried to convince the other children, and when Ginny started putting some distance between them, everyone else followed. Luna found herself alone.

 

Her oddities only increased with time, and Ginny was uncomfortable.

 

It was during a Defence Club meeting that the redhead found out that she didn’t care if Luna saw the world differently. She could be a Seer, for all they knew. And she was sweet and quiet, with a vicious streak that made her a great fighter. More than that, she held no grudges. Ginny apologised for abandoning her when they were children, and Luna just smiled and told her it was alright, she had always known she’d come around, and perhaps she could almost feel like she had friends again.

 

Remembering this conversation broke Ginny’s heart. Was Luna so lonely that she believed no one would ever appreciate her company? Was it all Ginny’s fault?

 

And she had sought refuge in Gryffindor Tower. That had to mean something, right?

 

It took a minute before Ginny discovered that the blonde was making a frog out of tiny green pearls stitched together.

 

“Do you want to make one too?”

 

Surprised and seeing no reason to refuse, Ginny accepted and investigated the small instruction booklet. It was Muggle, no doubt about it. Looking at the difficulty level and the pearls available in the numerous little boxes that Luna had somehow taken out of her pocket, she chose an alligator, and they were soon joined by many different people of all ages. A Seventh Year girl scoffed and said it was a stupid idea and that Muggle kids made those in primary school, but one of her year mates, a boy who was growing a beard and looked much older than he was, all muscle and giant hands, decided it was brilliant.

 

Soon, they had half the House trying not to prick their fingers, making tiny animals while Luna’s eyes shone brightly, her smile unrestrained and delighted. Ginny looked at her brother and Neville, and they made an unspoken promise: find out what happened during that detention, and stop being intimidated by the Inquisitorial Squad.

 

Together, they called for Dobby.

 

 

***

 

 

Hogwarts was strong enough to be a true hindrance to the shameful plans of some of her residents by now, and it pleased Dobby greatly. The Elves had been busy lately, learning to speak English properly and perfecting their disguises, and most of them were ready to impersonate students while the children learned something useful. Dobby was proud of himself for one particular detail: he had learned colour coordination. He guessed it would be quite important if he were to turn into Dean Thomas, because the boy was always mindful of his appearance. And he could still wear his favourite pair of socks since the Hogwarts uniform would hide them.

 

But today, the free Elf wasn’t too chipper. He had been asked to follow the Inquisitorial Squad and observe detentions until he found out why the nice Lovegood girl had been so scared. The members and leaders of the Squad were vile. It seemed that they had angered the school however, because Dobby could see that the stairs rarely let them go where they wanted, portraits were noisy and “accidentally” revealed their presence to anyone who hadn’t seen them yet, and Silencing Charms had no effect on them. The best moment, in Dobby’s opinion, had been when the Second-Floor corridor just closed in front of them while the stairs stubbornly refused to move towards them. They had been stuck until Professor McGonagall had unfortunately required access to that same corridor.

 

Yes, Hogwarts was starting to fight more visibly. Walls appeared out of nowhere, doors refused to open, fake classrooms replaced real ones and trapped them once they were inside, and the castle messed with their sense of orientation, like a massive Confondus Charm that meant they always got lost. They were still students, though, so Hogwarts didn’t try to hurt them.

 

Professor Runcorn was fair game and was her favourite target. He oversaw most detentions these days and didn’t use a Blood Quill. He had a different method.

 

It was an hour after Dobby had been given his Very Important Mission and Runcorn’s office door opened, welcoming a sheepish-looking Sixth Year Hufflepuff. Using his concealment skills, the Elf followed him inside and stayed out of the way.

 

The teen was berated for his conduct during class and assigned lines with a normal writing implement. So far so good, but Dobby felt a strange energy within the room, and he didn’t like it.

 

When Runcorn told the Hufflepuff to start and that he would be back in a few minutes, Dobby expected the door to be locked, but he didn’t think the lights would go out. The student squeaked, and next to Dobby, the cupboard rattled.

 

The Elf snapped his fingers to light the torches again, just in time for an Inferi to burst out of the cupboard and start groaning at the terrified teen. Dobby didn’t wait. It might be a Boggart, but it could still be dangerous. He grabbed the student’s arm and popped him straight to McGonagall’s office.

 

If Runcorn used a Boggart during his detentions, with the understanding that using a wand would result in expulsion, Dobby understood poor Luna’s terror. And when McGonagall’s eyes widened in fury, he almost started dancing in pure glee.

 

 

***

 

 

Snape stared at the phone in the middle of the table with clear disdain, but he had to admit it was rather smart to use Muggle communication devices for Order Meetings. The Dark Lord wasn’t up-to-date with technology as he considered it beneath him, and he would never manage to listen in on their conversations. It would require the help of a Muggle or Muggleborn and no Death Eater would stoop that low.

 

It had taken a month before the Order could meet in their new location, a warded Muggle dwelling that used to house a small business. Albus, who could still use Fawkes to travel undetected, still believed it would be safer if he didn’t come back to England for now. Mad-Eye didn’t like it and made sure to let everyone know it through grunts, but he didn’t have a choice.

 

The meeting started late, because Arthur Weasley was too fascinated by the phone to leave it alone, and Ted Tonks had to fix his blunder. Remus kept nodding off, Molly complained about Fleur dragging Bill away to work for the Dwarves, Hestia and Dedalus had a disagreement about the location of their new headquarters, and Snape thought this whole endeavour was a mess.

 

Albus was rambling through the phone, unable to share much due to the Fidelius, so Tonks had to take over.

 

They went through the current status of the Ministry and Hogwarts, and Snape had to hide his surprise when Tonks revealed who was spying on Floo and Portkey travel for Voldemort. This wasn’t part of what he had been told. When his turn came, he smoothed down his robes.

 

“The Dark Lord killed Rodolphus Lestrange last month and asked his brother to grant him access to Lestrange Manor. Following this, Rabastan vanished, and Bellatrix became a Black again. The Dark Lord believes he has been betrayed.”

 

He still couldn’t believe how lucky he had been when Voldemort found out: as this happened during a school day, he was not summoned, but he heard from several Death Eaters that the usual Cruciatus session was nothing compared to the punishment he chose to give them. He sneered when Sirius Black’s voice spoke up through the phone.

 

“I’ve cast Bella out of the family to make sure she couldn’t find a way to use her blood against us.”

 

Huh. So, the mutt was smart sometimes. It must have been Narcissa’s influence. It also meant he had used Blood Magic, and Albus was probably furious about it.

 

“How is Hogwarts, Severus, Minerva?” Filius’ squeaky voice asked next.

 

The professors exchanged a glance, and Snape let his colleague speak about the current situation. The Defence Club still needed wands, and Sirius informed them that they were almost ready. Professor Parkinson kept a low profile and was actually knowledgeable about Magical Creatures, to Hagrid’s relief, and Professor Slinkhard was not a threat. The Head of Gryffindor took a vicious tone when she explained that Professor Runcorn was trapping defenceless students with a Boggart, leading to psychological damage in a few cases - Miss Lovegood, having been forced to witness her mother’s death and being told by her Boggart-father that it was her own fault, was carefully monitored by Madam Pomfrey. The man was having chest pains lately and wasn’t it strange.

 

It seemed that Umbridge was busy with Ministry business, confident in her total control over the school. Severus added that the Dark Lord was losing patience and would probably kill her sooner rather than later, a declaration that made quite a few Order members smile grimly.

 

Kingsley was the last person to talk, and his words chilled Severus to the bone:

 

“Yaxley has Fudge’s complete trust now. He was allowed access into the DMLE and more specifically, into Azkaban. He has been going there a few times lately and spoke to the guards - he’s making friends everywhere, and I believe he’s seeking entry into the Dementors’ Pit. They are dark creatures and already allied with You-Know-Who, but they’re still restrained. If Yaxley gets control over them through official channels, he’ll have free reign.”

 

“Isn’t there a way to destroy them?” Molly shrieked.

 

Moody snorted. “Unless your Patronus has suddenly developed murderous abilities? No.”

 

“If I may?”

 

They turned their attention back to the phone. Tonks mentioned a solution but didn’t explain what it was. Snape didn’t miss Andromeda and Ted’s sudden pallor. He didn’t listen to the outraged mutterings of the men and women around the table when they chose not to speak, but he decided to find out on his own.


	12. Blaming You

Harry swore and hissed under his breath, his fingers attempting to assess the damage to his right eye. He didn’t need more scars on his face, but Dudley seemed quite intent on making sure he would have a visual reminder of their fights. Plural. Harry understood. His cousin was completely alone, dealing with the aftermath of the worst day of his life, and while Healer Crowfeet and Terence deemed him healthy enough to leave the infirmary, he struggled immensely. Violence was often the answer for him. Unfortunately, he blamed Harry.  

 

 

_Harry was watching a flock of birds above the fjord, leaning against the bannister where he and Draco had their first kiss nearly a year ago when he heard heavy footsteps behind him and warily turned around. Dudley wasn’t looking at him. He never did, lately, unless he was getting ready to throw punches._

 

_“Hey,” Harry said softly. “What’s up?”_

 

_“Mum said you had to stay ‘cause if you left we’d be in danger. You left, and they’re dead. Now you’re sending me away too? I bet you’re hoping I’ll join them!”_

 

_Harry bit back a snarl. He empathised with his cousin, but it didn’t mean he forgot everything his aunt and uncle put him through._

 

_“If they wanted me to stay so badly, they shouldn’t have abused me.”_

 

_He regretted his words instantly, and Dudley’s fist crashed into his cheekbone. He must have blacked out, because when he came back to himself, he was on the ground, bleeding, and Draco was holding Dudley at wandpoint. Sirius broke the fight before any spell could reach the Muggle and dragged him away._

 

_Draco kneeled at Harry’s side and gently wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth, sighing. “Why did you have to provoke him again?”_

 

_Harry pushed him away. He felt dizzy and furious, he had just been beaten to a pulp, and Draco acted like it was his fault?_

 

_“I don’t need you to defend myself..”_

 

_“Clearly.”_

 

_“Leave me alone!”_

 

_Draco scoffed, but Harry could see the flash of pain in his grey eyes before he rose, turned around and walked briskly towards the hotel. When Sirius came back for him, he noticed the disapproval all over his face, and he hated himself._

 

 

It had happened a day earlier, and Harry still felt like crying. He knew he had been ridiculous, but how could he apologise when Draco had stormed into their quarters, grabbed his pillow, his cat and his toothbrush, before locking himself into his dusty, disused bedroom? At breakfast the next morning, he had completely ignored him and no one knew how to act around them. Sirius had tried, and Harry knew he was worried, but it hadn’t worked.

 

Harry hadn’t slept. He was in pain, because Crowfeet had taken Dudley away and Terence couldn’t repair the damage around his eye without him, the work was too delicate. More than that, he was absolutely terrified. What if this was it? What if Draco finally had enough?

 

It had started after he helped Astoria save Dudley and was asked to limit his activities to preserve his energy. At first, he had simply worked himself to the bone to finish the wands ordered by Ron, and when he put the last touches to the last one and received those made by Gregorovitch, Ollivander, Beauvais and Kiddell, he had found himself with nothing to do.

 

Meanwhile, Draco was thriving. Miss Sundheim couldn’t teach him any longer, now that he was beyond what she felt comfortable explaining. He spent several hours, five days a week, with private Muggle teachers in Oslo, catching up on years of science classes. The rest of the time, he was helping with Potions and Defence, on top of his normal classes for his future NEWTs. He was busy and loved it.

 

Harry felt like he was left behind. With no classes to follow or teach, he quickly found himself lonely. When everyone met in the library or worked on assignments together, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

And still, he was asked to relax.

 

Dudley’s presence, after he started walking around, reminded him of living in Privet Drive. He felt judged, watched, and was often his cousin’s punching ball, though he didn’t say anything.

 

His first fight with Draco happened after Dudley hit him in the back, hard enough to leave a nasty, dark purple bruise way too close to his kidneys. He hadn’t told anyone, but Draco had seen it when they got ready for bed and went ballistic.

 

Deep down, Harry was aware that his boyfriend had made himself sick with worry. He had accused Harry of punishing himself for the Dursleys’ deaths, of using Dudley’s violence as self-flagellation, and he had cried himself to sleep. It made Harry feel even worse.

 

He hated his cousin and highly disliked having Lestrange locked away in the school. It stressed him out. He hated himself for being weak, for reverting to his childhood’s silence, when it was better to keep quiet about his wounds if he didn’t want them to get worse, and more than anything, he couldn’t stand the distance between himself and his boyfriend. He had let his pride get the better of him.

 

It was a sunny Saturday. Everyone but Harry, Gnedykh, Terence and Narcissa had left for a shopping trip, a cover for bringing Dudley to a specialised facility where he could heal from his trauma properly. Keeping him here around magic had been a huge failure. If Sirius had known earlier about the beatings Harry was concealing, the Muggle would have been gone much earlier. It should have made him feel better, but all Harry could think about was the grey-eyed boy who might break up with him later.

 

A stinging pain reminded him that tears and open wounds weren’t friends. He sat on the flood of his workshop, door locked, and stared into nothing.

 

Around him, dozens of boxes were ready to be sent to Scotland. There was a broken vial under his workstation, from when he lost his temper. When he heard his grandmother’s voice calling him, he almost left, but he didn’t have enough energy to stand up, so he simply stared at the portrait. He caught a glimpse of his father and grandfather before they left, and he was left alone with the old woman who smiled kindly at him.

 

“How do you do this? Stay married for so long?” he finally asked tiredly.

 

“Dearest, there is no secret: communication, compromises, and respect. Are you having troubles with your young man? He’s such a sweetheart.”

 

“We- I think he’s going to leave me.”

 

His voice sounded miserable.

 

“Oh, darling, why would he? Did something happen?”

 

He told her everything and had to stop biting his nails when he accidentally cut through the skin. Euphemia’s calm demeanour made him wish she was alive and could hug him and comfort him properly.

 

He spoke about the past; how he realised he liked boys and girls, and that he hadn’t only been looking at Cho Chang during the Yule Ball. How he had struggled with it so much because he had been brought up in a homophobic environment, and had heard horrible things about bisexuality from a group of older students. How he discovered biphobia and decided he didn’t want to let that hurt him. How he had a small crush on Fred Weasley, and how Bill had been the first man starring in his wet dreams. How every other boy or man had been forgotten the instant he had seen Draco’s smile, and how he had slowly fallen in love with him.

 

She kept smiling, encouraging him until he had nothing left to say. “Do you believe that Fleamont and I never argued? Or your mother and father?”

 

He frowned. The only married couples he knew were the Weasleys and the Dursleys, and while the latter should never be used as a reference for anything, they never fought in his presence.

 

“Every couple fights,” she continued. “It’s healthy. It means you don’t keep things bottled up. I think it’s important to resolve your disagreement before falling asleep, so you don’t go to bed angry.”

 

“Too late.”

 

“Dearest, it’s not the end of the world. Draco loves you so much that he can’t stand seeing you hurt. You were stressed, angry and tired, and lashed out. He’ll forgive you. Remember how things were when he was worried for his mother?”

 

He sniffled and nodded. How could he forget the long weeks where his boyfriend barely talked and often slept in his own room? “We didn’t fight though, we just- we didn’t interact much, at that time.”

 

“Isn’t it even worse?”

 

He explained how he felt about sleeping separately, and she told him that everyone needed some space from time to time. “Now, listen my dear, because I won’t tell you again: I am quite friendly with Narcissa - lovely woman, truly - and I should probably keep this a secret, but Draco has been asking her about same-sex bonding ceremonies last week. Talk to him, and listen to what he has to say. You have a healthier relationship than most teenagers did when James was at Hogwarts, and you deserve to be happy.”

 

He looked at the ceiling and thought about Draco. His eyes were finally dry, and he imagined how angry Hermione would be if she ever saw him fall apart so dramatically. All he had to do was trust Draco.

 

 

***

 

 

Pansy dragged Draco towards the International Pop Music section of the records store and he complained loudly when she stuck a pair of headphones on his head and forced him to listen to the Spice Girls. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to go back home and sleep, and nobody would let him. At least, that horrible Muggle was gone and wouldn’t hurt Harry anymore.

 

Mister I-Need-To-Save-Everyone had depleted his magic and fallen ill to save the life of a boy who had tormented him his entire existence. Bully Draco was nothing compared to Dudley. Bully Draco didn’t pop up in Harry’s nightmares. He didn’t understand why his boyfriend reverted to a state where he thought he deserved to be beaten up, and he put the blame on himself and on Sirius for not noticing sooner. He had seen his adoptive father’s red-rimmed eyes in the morning and had followed his lead when he offered to take everyone out to the nearby town. He had regretted his decision almost immediately.

 

Sirius told him it would be good to spend some time away for the day, to keep himself busy. It didn’t work. Everywhere they went reminded him of Harry. The furniture store? They had tested the most comfortable couch and had to be forcibly removed from it by Daphne and Millicent when they had decided to fuse with it. The interior decorating store? He had made Harry laugh until he cried when he had played the part of a salesman with a voice belonging to a Disney character. The candy shop? He and Harry had gotten sick after eating too many gummies. The bookstore? They had scandalised an old lady when she walked in on them kissing behind a shelf.

 

Nowhere was safe, and he didn’t want it to be. He removed the headphones when the song started to annoy him too much and rolled his eyes at Pansy who batted her eyelashes with a coy smile. “What do you want?”

 

“Just spending time with you, Dray!”

 

He shuddered. “Don’t call me that. Don’t you have anything else to do? There’s a gift shop, just get a card for Granger.”

 

“Noooope! We’re going to find a gift for a certain boyfriend of yours, and you’ll crawl at his feet and beg for mercy.”

 

“Beg?! He’s the one who-” She put a finger on his lips and he attempted to bite it.

 

“Hey, no blaming!”

 

“But-”

 

“No!”

 

“Pans-”

 

“Nu-huh!” Her finger was now digging into his chest. “You, darling, have the sweetest love story I’ve ever seen and I’ll hex your bollocks off if you mess it up! You’re supposed to marry him, adopt five kids, live in a castle and be sappy and disgustingly in love for the rest of your life. You are _not_ ruining my fantasy. Gilderoy Lockhart will write romance novels about you two-”

 

“Lockhart doesn’t know who he is!”

 

“Shush! The Muggles will make movies, and you’ll end up being a mythical couple that children are taught about in five million years. You are not breaking up with him!”

 

His eyes grew as big as saucers. “What? Break- no!”

 

Who spoke about breaking up? What was happening? Oh, Merlin. He felt sick. Did Harry think they were over? Would he be crying, alone in their room, thinking Draco was about to…? He attempted to flee, but Pansy’s grip on his arm stopped him. She rose an elegant eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”

 

“I need to go back! I need- I’ll grovel, I’ll beg, I’ll do anything!”

 

When she started laughing, he felt betrayed, and glared at her, thinking he should Transfigure her hair into spaghetti.

 

“Draco, my love, my dear, my friend. Queen of the Drama Kingdom, as I’ve said. Harry was a git. Let him stew for a few more hours, but!” She smirked. “Let’s go find a gift for him.”

 

“Not the Spice Girls CD,” he muttered angrily, his thoughts running wild. He was shaking, but he was slowly calming down.

 

“Alright. Oh, Blaise needs some help with make-up. He tried to remove his acne with a spell and burnt off his eyebrows. I’m drawing them for him until they grow back. Come help me choose the best brand!”

 

“Blaise has acne?”

 

“Blaise had ONE pimple and decided his life was over.”

 

 

***

 

 

_Moony,_

 

_Parenting is hard. Draco and Pronglet got into a fight a few days ago. I couldn’t take sides but I would have supported Draco in this: Pronglet was reckless. His cousin was bullying him and he didn’t say anything. Anyway, they both cried all night and were horrible to each other in the morning._

 

_They must have spoken to someone because Draco brought his belongings back into their room in the evening. But things are still a bit strained. They walk on eggshells. I think they’re scared to set each other off and fight again. I had to talk to them about trust and all that crap. Apparently, Euphemia interfered, and my cousin discovered that if they started to look uneasy, the best way to shut them up was to dump babies into their arms._

 

_They’ll be fine. I’m allowing Pronglet to teach the Duelling class again, so I’m hoping he’ll feel better._

 

_Now… how are you and my baby cousin? *hint hint*_

 

_Pads_

 

_P.S: sending the shipment of you-know-what. Give it to McGonagall, please?_

 

 

***

 

 

_Padfoot,_

 

_Delivery accepted and received._

 

_Remember how Prongs and Lily screamed at each other? You should tell them that. Ah, young love!_

 

_A little bird told me you have someone other than me to bother. Can you do that? I think he’s a redhead and likes dragons. I will not provide you with the details you are no doubt attempting to gather._

 

_Moony_

 

 

***

 

 

_Moony,_

 

_EW NO! I do NOT want details about my baby cousin, thank you!_

 

_I showed a memory to Pronglet and Draco. The evening before Christmas ‘80. Lils was so angry. My ears are still bleeding. Prongs had been stupid and put blood all over the carpet._

 

_Pads_

 

_P.S: My redhead has a tight arse that looks amazing in leather and I know you’re jealous._

 

 

***

 

 

_Pads,_

 

_Oh, it’s your redhead already?_

 

_Moony_

 

 

***

 

 

_Moony,_

 

_I knew I forgot something. Mission Seduce the Dragon is on!_

 

_Pads_

 

 

***

 

 

_My dear Astoria,_

 

_Thank you for your letter. I miss you and your sister every day, and I hope you are doing well. I have gathered the information you requested and here is what I found. This is, of course, confidential and I would urge you not to share it with anyone but your Master in the Department of Mysteries._

 

_Pandora Lovegood was born with the power to become a Priestess of the Old Ways. Her parents chose to bind that part of her magic in a ritual, but when she learned about it, she attempted to reverse it. Her experiments caused her death in early 1990._

 

_Her daughter Luna had been known for her eccentric personality and is not deemed completely sane. Some people think this is a result of seeing her mother die in front of her, while her father believes she can see creatures a normal witch or wizard would be blind to._

 

_I understand why you have asked me for this and I will try to reach out to her, with her father’s permission. If she has her mother’s powers, or if she can see what dwells between our worlds, she will be a useful ally._

 

_With all my love,_

 

_Your father,_

 

_Nathan Greengrass_

 

_P.S: I have set up accounts for you and your sister with the Arctic Dwarven Vaults. With the limits imposed on Gringotts and your mother’s increasingly erratic behaviour, I do not wish to see you completely cut off should you need Galleons._


	13. An Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a bit too long to write because work killed me :P

Sirius closed his trunk and reduced its size before putting it into his pocket. He hoped he had enough pairs of socks for the next two weeks. Using magic to clean them made the fabric itchy and he doubted they would have access to a Muggle laundromat in the middle of the Albanian forest. 

 

Dumbledore had suspicions about the location of a Horcrux and they would spend some time retracing Voldemort’s steps and finding his lair in Eastern Europe. While Sirius doubted they would actually find anything interesting, it didn’t matter, because Charlie would be joining them and Sirius could, perhaps, get over his stupidity and ask him out. 

 

But first, he had something important to do. He left his room, locked the door behind him and set out to find his godson. He followed the noise coming from the kitchen, a mix of angry House Elves and laughing teenagers, and smirked at the view. Theodore was covered in flour and sputtering, while Toppy and Mopsy wailed in indignation. It looked like something had exploded in there. 

 

“Are you trying to torture the Elves?” he asked, and Harry, who was suspiciously clean, smiled brightly. 

 

Theo coughed and wiped his face. “Wrong spell.”

 

Curious, Sirius raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged. “I had enough time to cast a Protego.”

 

“I see. Can I talk to you for a bit?”

 

“Master Harry is not leaving before cleaning up the mess!” Toppy shrieked. “By hand!”

 

Sirius winked at his godson and Vanished the flour, resulting in angry mutterings about unruly children. Theo grabbed a pack of eggs. “I’ll cook, don't worry about it.”

 

Harry agreed and followed Sirius to the lounge. The rain battered the windows and the wind sent branches and leaves flying all around the garden. It was chilly; the fireplace was lit, a welcome sight, so Sirius moved a couch close to the flames and sat down, his godson taking a seat beside him.

 

“What did you want to speak about?”

 

He ran a hand through his long hair. “You, Dudley, and Draco.” He noticed the slight grimace twisting Harry’s lips. “I have a few questions for you, that’s all.”

 

“I already said I was sorry.”

 

“I didn’t mean that. I know you are. I also want you to know that no matter what, it’s not your fault, and we shouldn't have made you feel like it was.”

 

Big green eyes stared in surprise and Sirius swore under his breath. He should have done that earlier. 

 

“I know you were under a lot of stress. I understand why you didn’t tell us he was hurting you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you felt trapped, right? It was like you were back in Privet Drive.”

 

He could see that Harry had trouble swallowing, so he gently rubbed his back. “Nobody did anything to help you back then. You couldn’t speak out, or you’d just get punished. So, when Draco tried to help you, you reacted aggressively, not just out of pride, but because when you were a child, if someone did that, they were beaten up by Dudley later.”

 

Harry nodded quickly.

 

“Draco was hurt and didn’t understand. He was scared.”

 

“I overreacted.”

 

“You did, but in your mind, you weren’t really there at that moment.” He took a deep breath. “Listen. My parents didn’t use their fists on me. Too Muggle. They used magic. They didn’t leave traces, but Bella did; she enjoyed cutting curses and she wanted to use them on Reggie. I never let her, so I became her target. She did that until she got the Mark and found other victims. Anyway, before I ran away from home, there was one summer where I hung out with your father every week. Once, I was late so he came to Grimmauld instead of waiting in the park. Reggie let him in. I think we were thirteen. Needless to say, he saw me when I had just been cursed. I screamed at him, told him to get out and never speak to me again.”

 

“You- why?”

 

“For the same reason you told Draco to leave you alone. I felt completely humiliated and I was scared that he would become a target. Did you know that the first time I faced Bella in a fight once I became an Auror, I froze and couldn’t move? Everything she had done to me came back and I was stuck in my memories. Does that sound familiar?”

His heart ached when Harry rubbed his eyes. He kissed his messy hair and kept him close, listening to the rain and the crackling of the flames.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry whispered eventually.

 

“I think you need to hear it. I didn’t handle the situation perfectly on Friday, but I want you to know that I understand. I’ve been there. You’re not alone anymore. Nobody expects you to forgive your family. If it makes you feel better, go ahead, but it has to be your choice. It doesn’t make you a monster if you can’t. Hell, I’m glad my parents are dead, and I will never forgive my cousin.”

 

“Bellatrix and Dudley aren’t the same though!”

 

“Aren’t they?” Harry blinked and stared at him, curious, and Sirius was glad that his eyes were dry. “Let’s see. Bella’s idea of entertainment is making a living being suffer. Anyone she considers weaker. What’s Dudley’s favourite past time?”

 

“H-Harry Hunting. And making children cry.” The teenager frowned. “Making them hurt, and it’s better if they can’t defend themselves. So- Dudley is-”

 

“A misguided teenager who was encouraged by his parents. Bella was exactly the same. If Dudley was a Pureblood wizard, at this point in his life, there’s a chance he would have taken the Mark. Voldemort gave Bella free reign to torture anyone she wanted. Dudley is not a good person. I don’t understand why nobody called the Muggle Aurors on him and his friends, and it makes me angry. He’s not irredeemable, not yet, but it’s not your responsibility to help him. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. Once England is safe, he'll be sent to his aunt's. I’m not letting him get close to you again. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice how much his presence here was hurting you.”

 

The violent shudder that ran through his godson made Sirius want to postpone his camping trip. He hugged him and tried to forget the images of his own childhood. “You’ll be alright, Pronglet. Do you want to speak to a Mind Healer?”

 

Harry kept quiet for a long time, but finally, he nodded against his chest, and Sirius let out a breath. “I’ll find someone. I wouldn’t be so healthy without mine, you know? It’ll be good for you. And if you don’t like it, we’ll find another way, or someone else.”

 

“D’you think Draco is still angry?” His voice was muffled by Sirius’ shirt.

 

The man ruffled Harry’s hair. “I don’t. He’s sleeping with you again, right?”

 

“Mhm. Gave me this.” He gestured at his wrist and Sirius noticed the Ouroboros bracelet that had until now been hidden by his sleeve. “He said he wanted me to know that it represents the infinity of his love for me. He’s so corny. Had to be a snake, too.”

 

_ Smooth, Draco, very smooth _ . With a big grin, Sirius put an end to their long hug.  “All he wants is for you to be happy and healthy.”

 

“He apologised.”

 

“Good. I’m sure he’ll be delighted if you tell him you’re seeking help.”

 

An hour later, he saw the couple cuddling on their favourite bean bag, eating the pastries made by Theo, listening to music without any of the tension that seemed to follow them everywhere since the incident. Satisfied with his parenting skills, he fingered the letter in his pocket, addressed to the Magical Hospital in Oslo. He should have done this months ago.

 

His hand brushed against the resized trunk, and he made his decision. Turning around, he went back to his room and grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment.

 

 

_ Albus, _

 

_ I know you’re waiting for me in Tirana but something came up. I’m needed here. I’ll join you and Charlie next week. _

 

_ I’m sorry to disappoint you. _

 

_ Good hunting! _

 

_ Sirius _

 

 

Satisfied, he joined his son and godson in the lounge with a book, making sure to let them both know that he was staying. Harry’s smile was priceless, and Sirius wondered how he could ever have wanted to leave.

 

 

***

 

 

_ Dear Miss Farley, _

 

_ You do not know me and I only know you through your Hogwarts professors, who are praising your impeccable work and attitude. I am reaching out to you today with a proposition that I hope will be of interest to you.  _

 

_ It would require you to step into the light as a member of the Wizengamot. I can make that happen. _

 

_ Having recently ended my service at the Dark Lord’s side, I wish to hinder the progress he is making through new laws proposed by his followers.  _

 

_ Through this missive, I confirm the Dark Lord is alive and gaining strength. _

 

_ I have chosen you for your impressive NEWTs results, your bloodline, your family’s neutral stance in the First War and your father’s political career within the ICW. Should you be interested in knowing more, I remain at your disposal. _

 

_ You may write to Albus Dumbledore, as he is the mastermind behind this convoluted plan and has vouched for you. _

 

_ Awaiting your response, _

 

_ R. F. Lestrange, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Lestrange _

 

 

***

 

“Perfect, Miss Greengrass. If you could just do it again?”

 

Astoria closed her eyes, hit the wooden floor with her staff, and stepped out of her body. It was becoming much easier now and she could almost control the body she was leaving behind. In this room, deep in the bowels of the Norwegian Ministry, her astral body was monitored, the results helping her understand how to use her powers. Anubis had been allowed to join her lately, as her Master, Unspeakable Craig (a nickname she thought was ridiculous) had discovered she had an easier time controlling her magic in the reaper’s presence.

 

Craig’s voice asked her to open a portal. She was getting quite talented at it and was almost always succeeding. With Harry’s help, even if it had been short-lived, she had understood how Ley Lines travelled and how she could use them. She no longer needed to open a portal with a specific destination in mind, she could simply step into the other world and follow the magic to go where she wished. 

 

Still following instructions, she and Anubis stepped into the newly created breach, leaving her physical body behind. The land she walked into was a barren swamp, covered with still waters, lifeless trees, dry roots and twisted rock formations barely visible through the thick, dark grey fog. There was no sky. She couldn’t see any living being but she knew they were there. Anubis grew to his usual size, floating behind her like a cape. Every breath Astoria took would have burnt her throat, had she chosen to visit in her actual body. 

 

The first flicker of light manifested itself like a swarm of fireflies, flying above the water. When she concentrated, she saw how they sometimes dug into the ground below the murky depths. She turned around slowly, seeking the right path. More light appeared, and it was alive. It ran through the dead wood of the blackened trees, shone under the mud, like the veins on her staff and on every wand Harry created. Once she noticed them, they were suddenly everywhere. She smiled sadly. These were actual Ley Lines, feeding the land, yet unable to make it flourish. According to Anubis, this was partly due to the corruption of the Dementors. They affected everything. 

 

“Should I go to Azkaban?” she asked, secretly hoping her companion would tell her she wasn’t ready.

 

The Lethifold’s body rippled. 

 

_ Must--not! _

 

She let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Alright. Not now, then.” She was struck with an odd idea. “What about Hogwarts?”

 

_ Can--visit---see--interesting-- _

 

Satisfied, she tried to remember how the soil of the United Kingdom felt. Islands had a particular magical signature, without the influence of a landmass. With one step, she understood she had already travelled that far. The land changed around her, still dead, still dark, but dry and with two distinct lines of energy leading to what she now knew were highly powerful places. One of them was Stonehenge. She ignored it and went towards the one that led her to Scotland.

 

Hogwarts appeared in the other world, although it looked different. It had a drawbridge and a moat.

 

_ Magic--remembers full strength-- _

 

She cocked an eyebrow at Anubis. “Hogwarts lost too much power over the centuries and can’t appear as it is today?”

_ Powerful enough--make mark in both worlds-- _

 

Sometimes, the Lethifold’s words made no sense, but Astoria believed she knew what he meant. Perhaps, long ago, there was only one world, and as magic started to disappear, they split. It was a theory she had spoken about with her Master. It didn’t matter right now, however, and she soon exited the barren dimension, walking without touching the ground until she passed through the main door of her old school. 

 

Anubis shrunk until he was even smaller than usual and together, they roamed the castle. It was quiet; classes were in session. They went up to the first floor. Astoria could sense that something was wrong in the way the walls thrummed like Hogwarts was suffering. The unusually active ambient magic pulsed, aggressive yet protective. She glanced inside a classroom, using her current state to see through the door, and she frowned at the magical signatures of the Sixth Year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. While some of them were perfectly human, most of them revealed a strange energy. Her eyes widened. Elves. They weren’t students. 

 

She remembered Harry saying that those who rebelled against the current regime in the school were studying on their own in the Chamber of Secrets. She dropped through the floor, appearing into the Entrance Hall, and twisted her fingers around her ghostly staff.

 

“Show me Salazar’s Dwelling.”

 

Her eyes were immediately dragged towards three separate threads of magic. She saw two of them leading towards the dungeons and ignored them. Following the third, she floated behind the main staircase, avoided a patrol of suits of armour that made her frown as they were never active when she was a student, and when the thread vanished into the floor, she ignored Anubis’ protests (he didn’t enjoy going through stone) and let herself fall below the school.

 

At first, she only saw darkness. She used her powers to identify her surroundings and found herself into a tunnel, partially collapsed but held in place by spells. When she heard voices, she left the rubble behind and walked until she noticed an actual classroom full of First and Second Years, taught by Snape, of all people. She stayed long enough to understand that this was a Charms class. She smothered a laugh as she imagined her Head of House attempting to teach with as much squeaky enthusiasm as Flitwick. 

 

The next classroom was quieter and had no door, its opening was only a hole in the wall of the tunnel. Older students worked on Transfiguration. She recognised Longbottom, who stood surrounded by his classmates with a beaming smile, working on a replica of the castle. He put the finishing touches to Gryffindor tower with a flourish. She stared, in awe. It was made entirely of ice. Neville’s next spell made her jaw drop. 

 

“ _ Invoco Draconem _ .”

 

His wand, longer than most, with red energy coursing through its length, created a small dragon that immediately started flying around the ice castle before letting out a burning flame and melting it. How did such a mediocre student manage such a difficult Conjuration, even keeping the dragon to a small size instead of invoking one that wouldn’t have fit inside the room? 

 

Impressed, she left and made it to the main room, the actual Chamber of Secrets. It was massive and much less sinister than she had thought. The snake statues were all disguised in various ways (was that one dressed as Harry?!) and the place was well-lit. It was currently hosting a duel between two talented Seventh Year Slytherins.

 

She smiled in approval, standing behind the crowd. Just as an impressive exchange of spells took place between the duelists, Anubis whispered that someone was watching.

 

Astoria froze and turned around.

 

“Oh, hello Astoria!” Luna Lovegood was looking straight at her with a dreamy smile, twisting her hair around her fingers. “You’re shining, it’s very bright. I’m so glad that you have your own Flat-Flapping Shade. They’re fierce protectors.”

 

The Greengrass girl almost ripped a new portal to run away, but Anubis didn’t seem bothered anymore, choosing instead to fly around Luna’s head, examining her.

 

“You can see me?”

 

“Of course. Just because no one else can, doesn’t mean you aren’t there. Will you be coming back?”

 

She nodded, still in shock. Of course, she would.

 

_ Not--priestess--same magic---muted--useful _ .

 

Luna gave no indication that she could hear the Lethifold. When Astoria started to ask what Nargles actually looked like, now certain that everything Luna always blabbered about existed, she felt a strong pull calling her back to Norway. Regretfully, she decided to go.

 

“I’ll be back, Luna. We have so many things to discuss!”

 

“It would be nice. Perhaps we can find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack together!”

 

Whatever this actually was, it sounded just as interesting as exploring the other world - and much more relaxing. She left Hogwarts with the knowledge that House Unity had never been stronger, and that she was capable of travelling on her own for long periods of time without getting lost in the foggy landscape behind her portals.


	14. Albania, part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains a brief sex scene between adults. It won't be the last.

Sirius was quite certain that Albus had somehow summoned torrential rain to welcome him to the Albanian forest as a punishment for running away from the Greater Good. Even Fawkes looked annoyed, glaring at the sky with narrowed eyes and squawking in outrage whenever he ventured outside.

 

The camp was in a clearing, completely exposed to the elements. Two tents stood close to each other, protected by strong Impervious Charms - one was obviously Albus’, as it was made of a purple and orange fabric with yellow stars stitched everywhere. A small seating area had been Conjured, its roof allowing them to share their meals in relative dryness. All in all, it was a rather dreary location for a miserable mission.

 

It had been almost two weeks since Sirius had sent his letter to the Headmaster. Due to Harry’s experiences with his first Mind Healer, whom he did not feel comfortable talking to, Sirius had stayed longer than planned and made sure to find someone else. Surprisingly, Draco had requested help for his own nightmares, though he was fine with Sirius’ own Healer right away.

 

Eventually, Sirius took a Portkey to Albania, where he met the Phoenix who spirited him away to Albus’ campsite. He was still feeling slightly ill after the Portkey and didn’t want to eat the grilled potatoes and sausages Charlie had prepared. Instead, he sipped fresh water, wondering why Dumbledore felt it necessary to wear his usual garish robes instead of a more practical outfit. Himself and Charlie were wearing Dragonhide Duelling clothes, allowing a great ease of movement and offering protection. While the other men ate, Sirius glanced at a wet copy of the Prophet, already two days old:

 

 

_WIZENGAMOT MAYHEM!_

_by Rita Skeeter_

_Wizengamot sessions are generally uneventful, if one forgets voting sessions where tensions run high and blood boils in the ranks of our most esteemed citizens. As I took my seat in the Press gallery with my quill and my parchment, ready to listen to the October meeting and bring back the best stories for all of you, I never thought I would witness such a historical moment._

_Now, to make sure we are all on the same page about Wizengamot seats, let me recap:_

_Ancient and/or Noble Houses, the Sacred Twenty-Eight and Houses that can trace their family’s purity for at least seven generations and financially contribute to the government, are eligible for election, to join the ranks of those who govern us. A previously elected House may keep its seat empty for twenty years. To return the seat to an active status, a regent or an Heir must be appointed by the Head of House. There can be no meddling: a Head of House can name any Pureblood or Half-blood to take care of their family affairs and votes._

_If a House is old and famous enough, an honour seat is assigned to cover the eventuality of a blood heir. This was a decision taken unanimously two years after the Founding of the Ministry, in 1709, when a witch descended from the Selwyn line demanded to know where her seat was._

_Yesterday’s session started with information about budget cuts for the Muggle Liaison Office and Auror department. Familial notices followed, in alphabetical order, and that is when things turned interesting._

_Dear readers, not one, not two, but FIVE Houses claimed their seats! This is unprecedented. A Goblin confirmed the validity of each claim, and let me tell you, none of them are by blood! However, it could mean that someone, somewhere, is attempting a coup by gathering blood Heirs and naming regents for their seats._

_The Minister was understandably shocked, but there was nothing he could do. The claims were legal. But he still attempted to stop them! Why, then, try to keep them from their rightful place in our government?_

_Well, let me tell you their names:_

_Gemma Farley, Slytherin Head Girl now employed at St. Mungo, claimed the **Lestrange** seat. She has been named Heiress and magically adopted into the family through a series of vows, without erasing her own heritage._

_Lady Longbottom, already regent for her grandson, Neville, who is in his Sixth Year at Hogwarts, has accepted to act as the Potter regent._

_Andromeda Tonks nee Black, disowned in the 70s for marrying a Muggleborn, seems to have been reinstated and has become regent of the Black seat._

_Eric Pucey, journalist for Magic International, father of Slytherin Chaser Adrian (in his Seventh Year at Hogwarts, although I am told he is currently away), is regent for the Peverell seat. Yes, you read that right!_

_And finally, it would seem the Slytherin family has a blood Heir! The Founders seats have never been claimed. According to the Goblins, our future Lord Slytherin is just a few months old. His mother and sole living parent, whose identity has not been revealed, appointed Lord Greengrass as regent._

_Do you see why the Minister panicked?_

_“I believe these people know where Harry Potter, Sirius Black and the younger Lestrange are hiding, and I will demand an investigation!” said Minister Fudge._

_When asked for his opinion, the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Rufus Scrimgeour, had this to say:_

_“We cannot, under the current laws, prosecute someone for being appointed regent or Heir. While we will certainly look into any correspondence between both parties, our new Wizengamot members have nothing to fear, unless they are harbouring a criminal or have facilitated their escape.”_

_Since being convicted of murder and condemned to life in prison automatically removes a Lord’s ability to use a proxy for his votes - although it does not cancel a Lordship in the eyes of Magic, the only way Sirius Black and Rabastan Lestrange (see page 68 for Rodolphus Lestrange’s obituary) could activate their seat would be by claiming an Heir and passing on their title._

_This is what Mr Lestrange has done with Miss Farley, but not Sirius Black. He was able to appoint a regent, which means he is recognised as Lord Black by law - and, my darlings, do you know what this signifies?_

_Was Sirius Black thrown into Azkaban illegally? I will find out!_

 

 

Sirius’ eyebrows climbed up to his hairline. “Which side is she on?”

 

“The most scandalous, of course,” Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling with renewed vigour. “She has supported the Ministry until now due to the lies they fed her about us, but if the truth about you comes to light? She won’t take Cornelius’ side.”

 

“That’ll be fun. Still can’t believe you got Lestrange on board with your crazy plan.”

 

Charlie barked a laugh and took a swig from his bottle of Muggle beer, making Sirius drool like a besotted idiot.

 

“Rabastan is a smart boy who made the wrong choices early on and would not have turned against Voldemort if his brother was still alive. As he is unapologetic, he will never have my trust, not that he would want it. However, this is war, and we need to use every advantage we have, no matter their origin.”

 

Sirius snorted and forced himself to look away from the redhead, focusing on the old man. “That sounds remarkably like a certain Potions Master, who wouldn’t have turned if Snakeface didn’t go after Lily.”

 

He didn’t truly believe that Snape was a faithful Death Eater. He had, after all, helped save Narcissa and her babies, and was Draco’s godfather. Surely this meant something to him.

 

“You know that Severus has my complete trust.”

 

“And we will never agree on that.” He poked at the Prophet. “Are they safe?”

 

It had been his greatest worry after naming Andromeda as regent of his seat. The target painted on the back of each newly appointed Wizengamot member might as well have been a huge neon sign inviting Voldemort to strike. Reviving the Slytherin seat would not be appreciated by the one who considered himself his rightful Heir, a place he had forfeited by playing with Blood Magic, giving Cepheus a better claim as direct descendant, even as a Squib - a fact that was still carefully hidden. Cepheus was Salazar’s son, and if Voldemort had hoped to gain anything from _creating_ him, he now had to forget about it.

 

With his blackened hand, Dumbledore stroked his beard. “They moved into safe-houses, under Fidelius. Unless they take risks, they will be quite safe. They understand the danger they face and will not be seen in public outside of Wizengamot sessions. Lord Greengrass has filed for divorce as he could not allow his wife to take advantage of his new seat. I believe his daughters have been informed.”

 

Sirius nodded in approval. In this case, their outdated marriage contract would be rather helpful. The conversation switched to their progress in the forest. Dumbledore was looking for a Horcrux; Sirius and Charlie thought he wouldn’t have been so careless, but that they might find hints about the item he had used. They were following magical scars left by Voldemort’s wraith or by his young self, back when he travelled to build his knowledge. Charlie confessed that the work was slow, admitting that Dumbledore was sometimes letting his eccentricities get the better of him if he saw a rare plant or, Merlin forbid, a magical creature that he would attempt to tame. Sirius imagined that the young man was rather relieved to see him.

 

Charlie cleaned up after the meal, leaving the table empty and allowing the Headmaster to unroll a map of the forest. Red dots indicated explored paths and Albus pointed at them.

 

“I’ll key you into it. Any step we take in the forest will appear as such.”

 

_Fancy bit of parchment, sadly I’m sure it doesn’t insult anyone. Nice try, Albus, but mine is still better._

 

He felt the magic surround him before his name appeared on the map.

 

“Now, my boy, we should head to bed. We have much to do in the morning and I would like to be ready at dawn. You may share my tent, of course.”

 

Sirius froze and glanced desperately towards the redhead, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He took it as an approval and shook his head vehemently.

 

“I- er, that is, I don’t want to intrude. I’ll be fine with Charlie.”

 

“As you wish. I’m sure Fawkes will appreciate the space.”

 

The younger men barely waited until the Headmaster left their company before smothering near-hysterical laughter. Sirius was feeling much better, his nausea almost forgotten, so he accepted a cup of tea, eager to spend just a few minutes alone with the redhead.

 

“How’s the Quidditch pitch?”

 

Inhaling the scent of peach and ginger emanating from his tea, he smiled at the thought of his son and godson on their brooms. “We had our first match on Saturday and the kids were delighted. I’m thankful for your help, really.”

 

“It was nothing, every school needs a pitch.”

 

“Well, it made Evander smile, and that child is still struggling even with extensive Mind Healing. He’s grieving. I think everyone needed something to do. I mean, they played before, but it never felt real. I got them official team uniforms and they look amazing. Draco loves them. Harry was so excited, he looked like a toddler on Christmas morning.”

 

He realised he was rambling, but there was something soft in Charlie’s eyes, so he figured he wasn’t boring him. Still, he felt his cheeks burn, and he was glad Moony wasn’t here to see how ridiculous he acted when he had a crush.

 

“I like your smile when you speak about them.”

 

That is not helping with my loss of dignity. He was quite sure that his entire face was on fire. “They’re just- I love them, you know? I wish I had been there to raise them both.”

 

“You’re doing a good job now. No use blaming yourself, just continue what you’re doing. Live in the moment, and all.”

 

Sirius added a lump of sugar in his tea. “Is that your motto?”

 

He shrugged. “You tell me. After Hogwarts, I wanted to travel, to escape Mum’s plans for me. She hated that Bill didn’t get a Ministry job, so she was hoping I’d be the perfect son. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, but sitting behind a desk? No thanks. So, I decided to see the world for a bit after getting some money playing Quidditch. Went to South America, ran out of Galleons, got a job at a Peruvian Vipertooth Sanctuary shovelling Dragon dung. Fell in love with Dragons, found an apprenticeship in Romania, and here I am. So, yeah, I don’t make plans, if something happens, I welcome it, or I run from it.” He stared at him in a way that made Sirius squirm. “Wouldn’t mind some adventure that doesn’t involve You-Know-Who or angry nesting Horntails sometimes.”

 

Sirius kicked himself. He was a Marauder. He was Sirius Black, whose crooked smile made girls and boys alike swoon when he was a teenager, whose bed was never empty when he reached adulthood. Azkaban stole years from him, and he took them back with a vengeance. He wore his hair long and was even appreciating the premature grey streaks he sometimes found under his thick locks. His skin appeared healthy again, his eyes shone and his body, covered in tattoos, was no longer skeletal. He was handsome once more, perhaps more than before, and he had nothing to fear. He moved closer to the other man, his cup forgotten on the table, and repressed his blush and anxiety until his nose almost brushed Charlie’s.

 

“Care to share that adventure with me?”

 

There was a fleeting surprise on Charlie’s face before he broke into a wide smile. “How can I refuse?”

 

Sirius closed the distance between them, crushing their lips together with a bit more enthusiasm than planned. Charlie answered with a grunt, and suddenly his hands were everywhere, holding him, mapping his body. Sirius tightened his fists on the man’s shirt, pulling him even closer, almost desperate for contact. It had been so long that he had almost thought Azkaban had destroyed his ability to desire someone - but with his cock almost painfully hard right now, it was clear that his body still worked.

 

“You know - Albus is still awake,” Charlie breathed, licking into Sirius’ mouth and making him groan, palming his erection through his tunic.

 

Swearing in dismay, rutting against his hand and pulling on a fistful of red hair, the older wizard almost hexed the Headmaster’s tent. He broke apart from him just as his orgasm rippled through him, embarrassingly quickly, and he chuckled when Charlie followed soon after. “Well, I guess he heard all of that.”

 

“Prepare for extra twinkling tomorrow.”

 

Sirius cleaned them both up with a spell and stood up on shaky legs, drinking his now lukewarm tea and feeling sated, happy and alive. The campsite didn’t seem that miserable anymore.   

 

 

***

 

 

Morning came too quickly for the men who were asleep in a tangle of limbs and who shouldn’t have spent half the night wrapped in each other’s warmth. Sirius thought about a few ways to murder Albus when the old man started singing one of Celestina Warbeck’s first hits. His body ached delightfully in all the right places; Charlie was an amazing lover. He stood up, thankful for the Extension Charms that turned the tent into a small apartment, and he walked towards the sink. Since it wasn’t connected to any water source, he cast Aguamenti to wash his face then brushed his teeth. Another spell cleaned his body, though he would still take a bath later, and he took a second to tie his hair. When he exited the tent, Charlie was cleaning the sheets.

 

Albus’ eyes twinkled so much that Sirius believed they could be seen from space. He felt no shame and simply smirked, grabbing a plate and filling it with sausages, eggs and toast. The Headmaster sure knew how to use a grill. He was surprised when Charlie kissed him before sitting next to him, but he certainly wouldn’t complain if the young man wanted more than a one-night stand.

 

Before Albus could comment, the Dragon handler proposed a new area to explore. They would Apparate to the furthest area they knew and go South. Albus duplicated the map so they could go their separate ways and cover a wider stretch of land.

 

“If you find a ring and put it on, I don’t care what you say, but I’ll chop your arm off,” Sirius warned, feeling his anger about the necrosis resurfacing.

 

“Fawkes will be with me.”

 

The bird ate a piece of apple and trilled. _Insane old goat,_ Sirius thought.

 

Plates empty and bellies full, the three wizards followed their plan after agreeing to Apparate back to their tents in the evening to eat and discuss any of their findings. They each had Potions, food and water in a resized bag and were ready for a long hike, although Dumbledore was still wearing brightly coloured and impractical robes. Sirius wasn’t exactly sad to see him head down a different path.

 

It didn’t take long for both young men to find themselves under a canopy so thick there was almost no light coming through. Sirius decided to turn into Padfoot and was immediately struck by the strong scents all around him. He found that his canine brain liked the way Charlie smelled (and oh, those were some good head scratches). As a dog, walking in the forest was an enjoyable experience. He ran among the trees, played with low branches and rolled in the dirt. At noon, they still hadn’t found anything, so they took a long break in an area teeming with untainted magic. Sirius imagined that Ley Lines converged under their feet, but he knew next to nothing about them and didn’t have his two-ways mirror to ask Harry, having left it in the tent. So, he just basked in the energising sensations coming from the earth.

 

The next few days followed the same pattern: a night at the campsite, where Sirius and Charlie would have mind blowing sex, followed by a nice breakfast spent avoiding Albus’ speeches about the power of love, then a long exploration of the woods. They each found more magical nodes, but the first hint of darkness was detected by Fawkes near a dried-up pond.

 

Albus’ Patronus alerted them and the Phoenix transported them directly to him. Sirius shuddered, recognising the same signature that was around the Horcruxes, only much weaker. They added a new marker to the map.

 

What none of them expected to find, was the complete annihilation of life around a gnarly old tree and the pulsing darkness within, barely three hours after Fawkes’ initial discovery.  


	15. Albania, part II

 Padfoot’s instincts were rarely misled. As a human, he instantly took a step back from the tree and let his Animagus form take over. But as a dog… He froze in front of Charlie, teeth bared, and let out a low growl, while his brain screamed _wrongWRONGWRONGWRONG_ and his only wish was to turn back and run - but Charlie was there and Padfoot couldn’t leave him behind. He whined pitifully, relaxing slightly when the redhead’s hand curled in the shaggy hair on his back.

 

This place smelt like despair, fear and death. It reminded him of the scents in Godric’s Hollow, but so much stronger it overwhelmed him. There was an underlying sweetness to it, like the stench of a rotten fruit. Grief washed over him and forced him to change back. He crouched on the ground, trying to focus on Charlie’s fingers that were now gripping his shoulder.

 

“-rius! Pull yourself together!”

 

He took a long, shuddering breath and opened his eyes. Albus was standing as close to the tree as he could without stepping on the uneven circle where even the grass was gone, casting detection Charms with a frown on his face.

 

Sirius swallowed. “He was there, right?”

 

“A long time ago. These are only old traces of his malevolence.”

 

Old traces? Sirius had never found himself face to face with Voldemort, but if his magical signature could affect nature this way and still be so potent and recognisable, he could barely understand how his followers didn’t choke on his oppressive power.

 

“He was still young,” Albus continued. “Not as insane and shattered as he used to be in the seventies, and certainly more powerful than now. He is by no means weak, but young Tom…” He pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. “Tom oozed evil. Only extremely dark rituals leave such strong remnants behind; if you add Tom’s magic, this is the result.”

 

“You knew him as a child,” Charlie said in an astonished murmur, and Sirius remembered that not everything about Voldemort was common knowledge, especially among newer Order members like the Dragonologist.

 

The Headmaster smiled sadly. “I brought him his Hogwarts letter. I believe he could have been saved, if only someone had found him earlier. By the time he was eleven, he had spent too long using his magic for both cruelty and self-protection. Life in a Muggle orphanage at the time was not kind, and life in Slytherin as a supposed Muggleborn was worse. I should have done something. By the time he discovered his heritage and became revered by his Housemates, it was too late. He was a charming and handsome young man, the best student the school had ever seen, and a fantastic actor. He knew how to restrain his magic so its darkness wouldn’t bleed through his skin, but sometimes, when he thought he was alone, I could feel it. And when he came to Hogwarts to apply for the Defence position, his aura felt exactly like this. I believe he had delved into Soul Magic too deeply to fully control what I could detect around him.”

 

Charlie, stunned, asked to know more and Sirius tuned them out, unwilling to hear about the man’s story again. He summoned his wand from its holster and cleared his mind, before using spells on the dead ground, his Auror training kicking in.  

 

He had seen bodies tortured to death by Bellatrix and had been raised surrounded by some of the darkest magic in existence, but nothing came close to this feeling - nothing, except the ritual that still haunted his nightmares, when Harry’s soul escaped and Voldemort possessed his body, almost a year ago. It gave him an idea, and with a flick of his wand, he revealed what had been buried by the decades: a maze of runes, some of them in a language he was entirely unfamiliar with, and- bodies. Albus and Charlie were no longer talking. The Dragon tamer hissed between his teeth and Sirius swore as two cadavers rose to the surface, the ground liquefying to allow them to appear.

 

The Animagus tasted bile at the back of his throat. The corpses had been somewhat preserved by the environment and magic, and they were both young children. “Did he use them for a Horcrux?” he spat.

 

Dumbledore levitated the children away from the tree. As soon as they crossed the border into the living part of the forest, Fawkes trilled sadly and Albus sighed. “I admit that it is a possibility, but what I do know of Horcruxes doesn’t involve the Aramaic alphabet. At first glance, this is a mix of Elder Futhark, Aramaic and something I have never seen before.” He suddenly looked exhausted. “That’s enough for today. Go back to the camp; I’ll take care of them.”

 

Slightly unsteady, Sirius and Charlie Disapparated. As soon as they reached the tents, they went their separate ways, and Sirius dry-heaved under the cover of the thick foliage, unable to stop his limbs from trembling violently. There was only one thing on his mind.

 

He grabbed the two-ways mirror from his pocket and called Harry’s name. The reflective surface shimmered and vanished, showing the teenager’s bedroom and both his son and godson cuddling and waving cheerfully.

 

“You look atrocious, Father.”

 

He laughed, his eyes prickling. “Thanks ever so much. How is everything?”

 

Harry kissed Draco’s cheek and Sirius was filled with longing, wanting to hug them both. “We went to Oslo with Theo and Professor Gnedykh, and Draco passed his Ancient Runes NEWT.”

 

Sirius grinned. “Really? How was it?”

 

“Easier than I thought,” Draco drawled. “If I get an Outstanding, I’ll try to pass one in Ancient Magic.”

 

“We duelled with some of the Werewolves at the Ministry.” Harry’s eyes were alight with excitement. “They’re really happy with their new wands and wanted to teach us a few things. It was amazing! They’re so much faster than us. They created a simulation of a canyon with lots of twists and turns and caves. Draco got hit.”

 

Said boy scoffed. “I scraped my knee, that’s all.”

 

“You got Stupefied.”

 

“We were up against five trained Aurors who happened to be actual Weres and had accepted the wolf within them. We should be celebrating our achievement. We lasted six minutes!”

 

The boys bickered under Sirius’ amused gaze. They told him about the usual drama between Susan and Terence (who were once again back together), gave him news about Hydrus and Cepheus who had started to eat pureed food and babbled incessantly with each other in a mix of meaningless sounds, and shared the story of Daphne and Cassius’ first official date, which Blaise, Katie, Evander and Adrian kept trying to interrupt until Narcissa asked them to stop.

 

Slowly, he began to let go of the chill caused by the horror deep in the woods, simply by listening to the voices of the boys he loved more than anything in the world. He let out a watery chuckle. “I miss you both so much.”

 

They looked startled and Harry’s smile vanished, replaced by a worried frown. “Are you alright?”

 

Should he tell them? Surely not. He wasn’t ready and they didn’t need more nightmares. He decided to reveal that their search in the forest had yielded its first result, without describing what it looked like. Then, he had an idea and asked if Vitaly was available.

 

“Potions class,” Draco answered. The boys didn’t need the class anymore, not with their Potions NEWT already earned. “Should we tell him to call you back?”

 

If anyone could make sense of the runes and bodies, it would be Gnedykh. He nodded.

 

“Will do then.” Harry moved, vanishing from the mirror, and came back with Perseus snuggled against his chest.

 

Regretfully, Sirius chose to end the call when Charlie called his name. “I’ll leave you to your cuddling.”

 

The boys waved cheerfully. Pocketing the mirror, he stood up, cast a Freshening Charm on his mouth to get rid of the bitterness on his tongue, and walked back towards the redhead.

 

“I asked Bill if he knows the third sets of symbols,” the younger man announced, pointing at Fawkes who was busy grooming himself. “He’ll look into it. Not sure if that bird enjoyed playing Phoenix Post but it’s fast.”

 

“He doesn’t look angry. I’d be more worried about Albus finding out that we are using his pet without asking.”

 

Charlie grunted and handed him a cup of strong tea. Neither of them would be hungry for the next few hours.

 

 

***

 

 

The bodies were cleaned of all traces of dark magic and brought to the Albanian Ministry, and a team of Aurors and Curse-Breakers was sent to the location of the dead tree. Perhaps a family or two could finally get some closure. It was without his usual twinkle and merry ways that Albus Apparated back to the campsite later that night and shared the news. Sleep evaded both Sirius and Charlie, their minds filled with the memories of what they had just seen, and they simply sat around the fire with a bottle of Ogden’s. Charlie wondered aloud if the Albanian Aurors would know what kind of ritual had been performed, and Albus’ shoulders sagged as he spoke about his uncertainty.

 

He informed them about his suspicions that the tree had hosted more than one ritual but admitted his lack of knowledge in sacrificial magic. So, despite his distaste for the man’s Mastery in Dark Arts, he seemed quite happy to be able to speak to him when Vitaly Gnedykh finally called Sirius via Harry’s mirror.

 

Sirius let them discuss the runes and the state of the tree, when he remembered the odour of rotten fruit and found himself strangely intrigued by it. While he was aware that leaving on his own in the middle of the night was far from wise, he also believed that with the Aurors already investigating the forest, he should be relatively safe. He excused himself and walked away from the fire, until he was far enough to Apparate to the tree. The area had been warded, and he couldn’t come close anymore. Turning into Padfoot, he was surprised to find that the darkness was so contained that he couldn’t find a trace of the smells that had been so similar to those of Lily and James’ home.

 

The sugary scent, however, lingered and slithered between the plants and trees on the other side of the ritual site. Tongue lolling out, the dog followed it, carefully listening to the sounds of the woods and forcing himself to ignore the distraction coming from nearby nocturnal animals.

 

He had no idea where he was being led, or if he was walking into a trap. His brain focused on that one smell and didn’t let go.

 

He moved faster as the hours went by, and just as he was about to rest, the smell grew even stronger. He started running.

 

After dawn, when he was hungry, thirsty and completely exhausted, he finally reached the end of the trail. The sweetness was gone, and in front of him stood a house.

 

It was more of a shack, really, with boarded up windows and crumbling walls. Turning back into Sirius, he cast _Aguamenti_ and drank until the dizziness in his head lessened. A Patronus later, he placed a Locating Charm on himself to allow Dumbledore and Charlie to find him, and he started examining the house.

 

It looked like any abandoned house that had been left at the mercy of years of wind, rain and sunshine. A spell told him it had been built in the nineteenth century, and when he flicked his wand to open the door, he noticed that it was riddled with claw marks. He wondered if it had housed a Werewolf.

 

A loud crack startled him, and he almost sent a hex straight at Dumbledore’s head. He saw a blur of red hair coming towards him and was soon hugged so tightly that his ribs hurt.

 

Charlie only tightened his hold on him when he tried to push him away. “You fucking IDIOT!”

 

Wincing, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry-”

 

“What did you think you were doing, running away all on your own?”

 

“Albus does the same thing all the time!”

 

“And if he finds a bunch of Inferi, he’ll dispose of them easily. Can you say the same?”

 

With a frown, Sirius replied that he had been an Auror and wasn’t hopeless in the field, but he felt warm and fuzzy with the knowledge that Charlie cared about him and it made it quite difficult to be annoyed at him. After all, he was right, wasn’t he? Sirius had been reckless.

 

“My boys, I believe this is what we were looking for all along.”

 

Finally, Charlie let go of him and they both looked at Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway of the shack.

 

“Looks more like a Were’s lair to me.”

 

Sirius agreed with his boyfriend (one-night stand? Friend?), but Albus shook his head. “This is full of Tom’s magical signature. If it hosted a Werewolf, it is none of our concern at the moment.”

 

Rolling his eyes, the Animagus fought against the urge to strangle the old man. “And yet you’re waltzing in without a care in the world. That’s exactly what you did with that stupid ring.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Charlie said with a glare.

 

“Really, now, this bickering is unnecessary. Let’s see if anything is cursed.”

 

The furniture inside the shack was sparse but in good condition under a thick layer of dust, so the claw marks were probably made before Voldemort’s stay. There was an ancient stove in the corner and a small Potions lab on the other side of the room. At the back of the house, two doors were locked, one of them protected by a shimmering ward that, surprisingly, did not reek of evil.  

 

Voldemort seemed to have used his brain during his stay in the shack, as they found no aura of darkness or traps in the first few hours of their detection work. Sirius decided that even Dark Lords wouldn’t poison their own residence, but he still refrained from touching anything.

 

They decided to focus on the locked door after a well-deserved rest, as they needed to wait for Vitaly's findings about the ritual. According to Charlie, the Dark Arts teacher had asked for a vial of their memories, that Albus had sent with Fawkes, but it seemed like he already knew more than he had revealed. They would wait for the results of his investigation and hope the ritual was nothing more than basic Soul Magic.

 

They had a feeling it wasn't.


	16. Feast and Risks

Draco quietly watched the Elves taking care of the bonfires of Samhain as he played with Harry’s hair. Sat at one of the wooden tables outside, his boyfriend laying down on the bench and resting his head in his lap, he kept catching himself smiling like a loon. One year ago, he kissed Harry. He barely remembered hating him, their petty rivalry seemed to have belonged to two different people.

 

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against Harry’s. The younger boy tugged him closer, deepened the kiss and let out a small moan that sent tingles up Draco’s spine. He was acutely aware that they weren’t alone, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to care. They kissed, slow and sweet, for what seemed like hours, until their display became too much for Narcissa - she poked Draco’s shoulder and placed a squealing Hydrus in his arms with a pointed stare.

 

He sputtered and felt his cheeks burn. “Hey!”

 

“Really, now, little Dragon, your brother missed you.”

 

“He did not, you just wanted to interrupt us.”

 

She gave him The Eye, the one that scared him when he was little. Pansy gave Cepheus to Harry when he sat up. Saddled with two babies who were not so tiny anymore and liked to babble nonsense to each other, they could only shrug and admit defeat. They fed them patiently and Draco took a moment to look around, feeling peaceful and happy. His Mind Healer helped tremendously, and he was glad to see that Harry was also feeling much better. The few arguments they’d had, had been resolved after discussing calmly and respecting each other’s opinions. All in all, life was great.

 

He spotted Daphne and Cassius Warrington, who was visiting Norway for the third time. They were speaking in hushed tones and flirting the Pureblood way: the only physical contact they allowed themselves was holding hands. In Lord Greengrass’ absence, Draco’s mother was their chaperone, to the hilarity of most of their friends. While they all knew the rules of a betrothal, none of them would have wanted to follow them.

 

Sat on the grass, surrounded by lanterns, a group of teens played Exploding Snap: Adrian, Millicent, Katie, Susan, Blaise and Theo were becoming louder and louder with every explosion.

 

Evander was standing away from the noise, in the company of Terence and Healer Crowfeet. Draco guessed that they were discussing the best way to honour the young boy’s parents. As time passed, his grief and apathy slowly disappeared, and he could often be found playing board games or helping Theo in the kitchen.

 

The wooden bench Draco was sitting on moved slightly when Pansy joined them.

 

“I have gossip!”

 

Harry, busy cleaning the mess of carrot puree on Cepheus’ chin, let out a loud snort, and Draco feigned disinterest. “I have no time for idiocy.” Hydrus squealed and spat his food on his shirt. “I also have no time for your antics, young man.”

 

Pansy Scourgified the mess (Draco’s shirt didn’t stay clean for more than 2 seconds afterwards) and smirked. “It’s good gossip. Mione wrote to the ICW.”

 

Alright, that _was_ good gossip. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced at the girl who looked too glamorous for a feast eaten with plastic cutlery.

 

“She got her hands on Hogwarts’ lesson plans for the year - I suspect a teacher sent them, and she forwarded it to the International Examinations Board. Do you know what this means?”

 

If Granger had been there, Draco would have bowed to her intelligence. If the ICW realised that Hogwarts was no longer following the program that allowed the school to be recognised world-wide, Fudge would have a meltdown. How he wished he could be there to witness it.

 

“So, they’ll force the Ministry to stop?” Harry asked.

 

Pansy’s grin showed most of her teeth. “They can’t intervene, but they can decide that NEWTs and OWLs from Hogwarts are no longer valid. Fudge thrives when he’s popular. What do you think will happen when a public notice appears in the Prophet?”

 

Draco nodded and felt a burst of excitement in his chest. “They could send people to inspect the school and teachers.”

 

Harry’s laugh was music to his ears. “They’ll do what Umbridge did. This is amazing.” He could see, in the way Harry’s eyes sparkled, that he was in awe of Hermione’s idea.

 

“Karma,” Pansy added, stealing Cepheus from Harry’s arms when the baby started whining. “Ooh, someone’s cranky.” She wrinkled her nose and Draco called one of the Elves to change both twins before his mother could tell him to do it himself. Kreacher and Mopsy took charge, muttering about bedtime and fussy infants.

 

Now free of wriggling little brothers, Draco stood up and pulled Harry with him, Pansy following close behind. They joined the group playing Exploding Snap and were handed cards as soon as Blaise won the current round, but Harry got distracted by the painting he had insisted on bringing outside and lost almost immediately. Draco understood his need to spend Samhain with his family, even if they were inside a canvas. Another frame was out: Ignotus Peverell was still fascinated by Anubis and took every opportunity to question Astoria about him. The girl was sharing their last foray into the realm of Death.

 

At some point in the next few minutes, Professor Flitwick poked the Conjured Cloud, still floating ominously above the domain, and got drenched in return. Amelia Bones and Miss Sundheim already had too much to drink by then, and Draco honestly believed they would fall over laughing. He couldn’t blame them. He had learned, a while ago, that his glorious creation should be left alone. One day, he would find a way to get rid of it.

 

“I wish Sirius was here.”

 

Draco looked at his boyfriend, who was now focused on him since James, Euphemia and Fleamont had decided to wander away from their frame. With a sigh, he grabbed his waist and pulled him closer. Harry sat on his lap. Satisfied, Draco kissed the back of his neck and continued playing the game, but he silently agreed. He missed his adoptive father. The latest news from Albania was about Voldemort’s housing situation when he was gallivanting in the forest after leaving Hogwarts, and while they still hadn’t found anything that could hurt them, Draco did not trust the place in the slightest.

 

“He’ll be fine,” he murmured in Harry’s ear, because he needed to believe it too.

 

“I know.” Harry played his turn then snuggled against his chest. “Oh! SNAP!”

 

Blaise hollered as he won for the second time, and Millicent ended up losing her eyebrows as her face was too close to the cards. Snickering, using everyone’s hilarity as a distraction, Draco and Harry left together while Pansy repaired the damage to her friend’s face.

 

 

***

 

 

Vitaly had no plan to summon any otherworldly being and sacrifice more of his life-force tonight; there was no urgent mystery to solve nearby, and while he never hesitated to slice his own body open for a ritual, he wasn’t too keen on repeating last years’ experience. The scar on his neck would likely never vanish. It didn’t mean he was spending the most powerful night of the year drinking and eating, however. He had better things to do, and no deceased friend or relative who deserved to be remembered.

 

He was standing guard in the back gardens of the hotel, near a raging bonfire lit solely for their prisoner, Rabastan Lestrange. The man wasn’t restrained. His promise to protect every living being inhabiting the Tranquil Spire domain meant that he was trusted up to a certain point. He was magically tied to the wards and couldn’t leave without dying shortly after, a subtle curse Narcissa cast on him in Dumbledore’s absence. At night, his room was locked with Blood Magic and his wand taken away, and during the day, he mostly stayed inside, using the Elves to get food and books from the library. There were no electronics around him, and he refused to use light switches, preferring candles and oil lamps. He bothered no one, and no one bothered him.

 

Vitaly was the only human who didn’t mind spending time with him. While their ideals were completely different, it felt good to speak to a Dark Magic practitioner. If Vitaly had to spend another hour arguing about the usefulness of rituals and the ethics of magic with Dumbledore, he would most likely set the infuriating old man on fire.

 

Their discussions through Harry and Sirius’ two-ways mirrors were frustrating and endless; Albus did not want to believe that the alphabets found burnt in the ground of the Albanian forest meant that Voldemort had used the place for more than one purpose; he kept speaking about Soul Magic and Horcruxes and the aura of the tree where Rowena Ravenclaw had been killed by the Bloody Baron, convinced that the bodies trapped beneath the earth had been used to split his soul, but disregarding Vitaly’s findings as pure fantasy. According to Dumbledore, ritual chains didn’t exist.

 

The man was an incredible magician, but he had trouble accepting the truth when someone pointed out that he was wrong. Ritual chains were extremely rare. It was a series of rituals each more terrifying than the next. It could not be interrupted and could be used to summon beings that shouldn’t even be thought of, or to wrestle control of entities from their true master.

 

The Aramaic alphabet on the ground had been placed there first and had led to the creation of a Horcrux; Albus, Bill Weasley and Vitaly all agreed on this point. The Elder Futhark Runes by themselves were tied to Divination, but if used in a chain after a Soul Splitting ritual, they created a way to speak to specific entities. As for the third alphabet, Albus had never seen it before and considered it a made-up language created by Tom Riddle, but Vitaly knew better: Enochian was real and brought bad news. Riddle did not write the signs himself. If he was correct, then the letters appeared as an answer to whatever question the man had asked during the third ritual.

 

Vitaly believed this chain of rituals allowed Riddle to take full control of the Dementors. It would mean they had been under his thumb for decades and explained why none of them answered the summon during the ritual to remove the Horcrux from Harry’s head. If that wasn’t frightening enough, he had a sneaking suspicion that Voldemort had found a use for the souls of the Kissed.

 

Suddenly, the British Dark Lord sounded much scarier to the Russian teacher. He was convinced that Albus underestimated him.

 

So, his gaze left Rabastan’s back and rested on the parchment between his fingers, a letter from Dumbledore.

 

“Still wondering how to answer that?” Rabastan’s voice sounded rough; he had been crying for the loss of his brother.

 

“Obviously.”

 

“I find “fuck off” useful in these situations.”

 

Vitaly snickered. “I still have enough respect for the old goat to be polite.”

 

“How about, “go suck on a lemon drop”?”

 

They laughed then fell back into a comfortable silence until the Dark Arts teacher let his frustration win and pocketed the parchment. He would reply in the morning.

 

When the music started on the other side of the hotel, announcing the start of the feast, both men were visited by Toppy, who brought them food in a surprisingly kind gesture. She must have known about their reluctance to participate in the festivities with everyone else. Rabastan smiled wryly, and Vitaly joined him on the ground, grabbing a bowl of soup that smelled heavenly.

 

He kept thinking about the vials of memories sent from Albania. Sirius and Charlie had made sure to provide him with new memories every few days. They contained their numerous visits to the dilapidated shack and their attempts at opening the warded door. They were close. He doubted it would take more than a day or two to get in now and he hoped they were prepared for what lurked behind it.

 

 

***

 

 

“What if you can’t find your way back?”

 

Astoria bit her lower lip and frowned slightly at Ignotus’ portrait. She had just placed it back on the wall of his classroom where she had decided to spend the rest of the evening. Not practicing her magic on Samhain seemed ridiculous, so she chose to isolate herself and do it on her own. Even Anubis was left behind, busy flying around under the night sky.

 

Ignotus Peverell seemed worried about her. “I’m serious, young lady. If you get stuck on the other side, your body will continue to act as yourself and no one will notice. Anubis will not be able to warn anyone.”

 

“I understand,” she said with a small smile. “There’s nothing on the other side that can harm me. I wish to speak to Luna tonight.”

 

“Have you discussed this with your Master?”

 

She rubbed her right forearm and nodded. “He agrees that witnessing the other world tonight is an opportunity that should not be missed. He believes I’m ready to visit it without supervision, as long as I don’t take anyone with me.”

 

“I should hope so! At least take your Lethifold with you.”

 

She shook her head. “I can’t.” Squaring her shoulders, she checked that the door was properly locked. “Not on Samhain. He could be dangerous to me in there, he has too much energy and attracts attention.”

 

The portrait sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “Very well. I’ll keep an eye on your body. Did you tell anyone?”

 

“Daphne, before I left.”

 

Her sister hadn’t been worried, but Astoria imagined this was because she didn’t fully understand what she was actually doing when she used portals. Harry would probably have freaked out and insisted to help, which she wanted to avoid. He should never be drained of his magic the way he had been when they rescued Dudley. Not that it did any good anyway. The boy was an absolute waste of oxygen.

 

With her staff held tightly between both hands, she gathered the ambient power around her and mixed it with her own, until the air started to look solid, allowing her to tear into it.

 

The portal closed behind her astral self and she took in the landscape. It hadn’t changed, not fundamentally, but it was pulsing with magic, illuminating the sky like lightning strikes, shimmering in the air like fireflies and making the wind sing. The sheer strength of it took her breath away, and she started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of this is leading up to something important in the next chapter so... enjoy!


	17. Stitched Souls

It was still dark outside when Harry was awakened by his two-way mirror and found himself quite annoyed at the disturbance. Draco was spooning him, his torso flush against his back and an arm slung around his waist, his hand resting dangerously low. Harry was comfortable and sleepy, and the sense of urgency that came with each mirror-call since Sirius left for Albania was unwelcome. He rolled over, waking Draco in the process, and put on his glasses before answering the call with a sheepish smile towards his disgruntled boyfriend.

 

Sirius had a cut going from his left cheekbone to his chin and it was bleeding profusely, but his smirk and the little wave from Charlie in the background put Harry’s mind at ease. “Yes, hi, morning, did you have to wake us up so early?”

 

“Late night?”

 

Draco sighed theatrically and flopped on his back, whining. “Father, it was Samhain, we went to bed at three!”

 

“You should have just stayed up! I bring news and I need Pronglet’s help.”

 

Noticing that Draco was drifting back to sleep, Harry put on a pair of fluffy slippers and a bathrobe, kissed the sleepy boy’s lips and headed out to let him rest. Quietly, unwilling to bother anyone else, he walked to the lounge where he found a cup of tea already waiting for him. He smiled, grateful for the Elves’ foresight. 

 

Sirius started discussing the warded door and how they had worked for hours and finally made it through. He spoke about the Severing Curse that would have beheaded him if he had been standing differently, and about Albus’ ugly fight against the starving Ghoul that Riddle seemed to have chained up in the room. He made it sound entertaining, but to Harry, this was all nightmare fuel, and his stare must have made the Animagus realise that being careless was nothing to boast about. Interestingly, Charlie, who stood next to him, looked just as grim, and Harry’s mind was suddenly invaded with images he desperately did not want to see. 

 

“If you found another set of Aramaic letters, I can’t help you,” the boy remarked.

 

He had always known that the remnants of Voldemort’s knowledge in his mind weren’t complete; he had been unable to help with the ritual site and he had been glad to be useless, after what Gnedykh had discovered. There were things he didn’t wish to understand.

 

Sirius held a book in front of the mirror. “We found this. It’s filled with notes on Horcruxes and Dementors and contains potions recipes that would make Sni- Snape shudder.” It had no title and was bound in something that looked eerily like old, dried up skin. 

 

“Charming. You sure it’s wise to touch it?”

 

“Yeah, it’s clean. His notes aren’t particularly valuable, Albus knows all about what he was researching. This, however…” He flipped through the pages until he reached a section where the text seemed to waver while still being perfectly legible. “...Is where you come in.”

 

With a frown, Harry read the first sentence and found nothing unusual. “Why? What’s in there?”

 

Charlie grinned. “Albus says it’s written in Parseltongue.”

 

“Tom has always been arrogant,” the old man said from somewhere out of the picture. “He believes Parselmouths can only exist if they descend from Slytherin and he is convinced to be the last one alive - excluding Cepheus today, obviously. I think he doesn’t know about you, Harry, and at the time, he definitely didn’t. If he wanted to hide something, writing in a language only he could understand makes quite a bit of sense.”

 

Harry agreed and began the slow task of reading the rambling of someone who used an annoying amount of metaphors and grand sentences, hoping all he would find would be about harvesting fruits or learning spells like the toenail Colouring Charm Voldemort was probably ashamed of knowing.

 

 

***

 

 

Astoria knew she should be getting back to Lilium, but she was having too much fun. After roaming the numerous tunnels and rooms connected to the Chamber of Secrets, she had been lucky to observe a prank on Professor Runcorn: Ron Weasley hadn’t been caught, but he was now a hero for all four Houses. The professor had been dosed with a potion during dinner, one that the Elves had agreed to put in his drink and would be gone from his bloodstream by the time an investigation was launched if there was any. While Ron had never been good at Potions, his drive to annoy the individual gave him enough patience to perfect a brew that Professor Snape would deny knowing anything about. The potion was Dark, and Astoria understood that these were no longer normal pranks. They were desperate attempts at tormenting someone enough to make them leave. 

 

The potion caused vivid hallucinations, not unlike a Boggart’s presence. No one had forgotten what kind of detentions Runcorn liked to assign and what he had done to Luna. Similarly, everyone remembered that ever since Hogwarts had started defending her students, the teacher’s heart had started to weaken.

 

Ron’s idea might lead to the professor’s demise, and Astoria discovered that she didn’t care. Neither did the students. Who knew a Weasley could be so ruthless?

 

Astoria learned from Luna that the idea came after a series of articles in the  _ Prophet  _ praised Umbridge’s methods: the Minister, upon visiting the school a week earlier, had found none of the disrespect, noise and general rowdiness associated with a boarding school and had declared that everything his Undersecretary was doing worked perfectly, turning unruly children into respectable members of society. Strangely, it hadn’t been written by Skeeter. She hadn’t produced any article lately and the Greengrass girl could only imagine she was investigating the juicy truth about Sirius.

 

Flooding the  _ Prophet  _ with positive articles about the government was a plot to make the public forget about the Wizengamot meeting in September. Skeeter was most likely biding her time, waiting for the November session before unleashing the Sirius Black bomb, and whatever else she had discovered. Perhaps Hermione’s letter to the ICW would even start making waves by then. Astoria wished she could tell the Gryffindors that one of their own was about to turn the British Wizarding World upside down. They would be so proud of her. 

 

“When you are lost in thoughts, I can barely see you.”

 

Astoria glanced at Luna, who was wearing her Spectrespecs, and smiled. They were both in the Room of Requirement, a version of it that looked like Astoria’s grandmother’s attic: filled with so many things, broken or valuable, that there was no way she could walk without looking where she was putting her feet. Luna had found a couch that Nargles appreciated, or so she said and had insisted that Astoria join her for tea. It was too late for her to go back to Ravenclaw Tower, so they just decided to stay there all night. Astoria wondered if this was a room where House Elves stored unused items over the years, or if somehow, accidentally Vanished possessions within the school ended up there. It would certainly explain the presence of a dress that, unless Astoria was mistaken, dated back to the Founders era. 

 

Luna seemed to find the mess soothing. She was braiding a thin bracelet with several threads of coloured cotton and looked peaceful. Astoria tried to imitate her craft but after five minutes, she found she had no patience for it. “Mind if I go exploring?”

 

Luna didn’t look at her, too busy with her bracelet. “Of course not. If you find a Snorkack, could you bring it to me?”

 

“Don’t they live in Sweden?”

 

The blonde girl lit up and she stopped braiding, a wide grin on her face. “You know about them?”

 

“From you. I listen.”

 

“And you believe me. It’s almost like having a real friend. I’m glad.”

 

Discarding her staff, Astoria went back to the couch, sat down and hugged Luna. “I  _ am _ your friend. I spend half my time on another plane of existence that almost no one would believe in. Why would I ever think you are inventing anything? Perhaps no one has found a Snorkack because, just like Nargles and Blibbering Humdingers and Wrackspurts, they are part of both worlds and can only be seen by people like us. Young children and animals can see things we cannot. Maybe people need to open their eyes a bit more.”

 

Luna’s big eyes searched her face before she picked up her bracelet and started working on it again. Astoria grabbed her staff and continued her exploration, until a dark aura called for her, near a bunch of chairs with missing parts and a collection of ugly carpets. She felt the pulsations of magic within her staff, saw the glow of its veins grow stronger, and with trepidation, she approached what she now identified as the lost diadem of Ravenclaw.

 

 

***

 

 

“ _ \- and I will shield myself with their soul, and walk the world of true power until nothing stands in my way- _ ” Harry rolled his eyes. “It sounds like a rehearsal for his grand master plan.”

 

“I agree,” Charlie added with a grim expression. “Does he like his own prose that much? It’s not like he intended to publish that.”

 

Sirius nodded and renewed the spell to levitate the mirror in front of them. “It would sound too plebeian otherwise. Can you imagine?  _ Dear Diary, today I looked in the mirror and my eyes were red. I think it’s the blood of my victims shining through _ .”

 

“Gentlemen, let’s get back to it, please. Harry, my boy, it sounds to me like he isn’t just speaking about abstract concepts. Please go on.”

 

Harry sighed and drank a sip of a fresh cup of tea. “The world below ours holds secrets that shall one day be mine. It has been visited by Death yet still lives, and in this, we are much the same. Its paths are open to me.” Now, a frown marred his forehead, and a sense of dread weighed on his shoulders. He saw Sirius and Charlie glance at each other. “Erm, doesn’t that sound like the place Astoria goes to?”

 

He didn’t know if it was because of the mirror or the darkness around his godfather, but he could have sworn his skin had just gone significantly paler. “That’s not good, right?”

 

Sirius shook his head. “It might be nothing. We need to come back, I’ll bring the book.” Dumbledore started to complain in the background. “Yes, Albus, we’ll visit again, but for now this is more urgent.” 

 

Charlie grinned, and Harry bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. When the mirror went dark a few minutes later, he stood up and ran outside, almost immediately regretting it when an icy wind wrapped itself around him. Painstakingly, he made his way to the school, then to the classroom where Ignotus Peverell’s portrait hung, waking him up when he opened the door. 

 

“Well, many times great-grandson, what can I do for you? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 

“Nights last longer already,” he answered with a shrug. “It’s not that early anymore.”

 

“Yet everyone still dreams, don’t they?”

 

“I had something to do. May I ask a few questions?”

 

Smiling benevolently, the man nodded. Harry proceeded to interrogate him about Astoria, the Old Ways, the other world and Death. The sun was shining brightly by the time the discussion took the turn he desired.

 

“How would someone without the power of a Priestess survive a trip through a portal unaccompanied? I know it’s possible to go in with a Priestess, cause I’ve done it-”

 

“And completely exhausted yourself in the process.”

 

“Yes, well, I won’t do that again,” Harry grumbled, his cheeks pink. It had been a very brief stint, just enough to work with a Ley Line and help Astoria with Dudley. The whole time, he had kept one foot firmly in Norway and had not actually travelled, but the brush with the other dimension had drained him.

 

“To answer your question, there’s only one way that I know of. You need a Cloak, one that allows you to walk completely undetected. Normal Invisibility Cloaks won’t work. I believe you have inherited the only one that would be effective. Let me tell you about the Tale of the Three Brothers.”

 

 

***

 

 

“ _ To hide from the eyes of the Unseen, stitch the souls of the Lost and wear them as a cape. _ ” 

 

Still groggy from the International Portkey, Sirius breathed through his nose and counted to ten, then did it again thrice. The impromptu Order meeting Albus had dragged him into wasn’t helping. 

 

They had landed in Norway barely three hours ago and the old coot had immediately sought out Harry, who had been listening to the rambling of a portrait and was still in his pyjama. The boy had been given the book and asked to decipher the rest of it. He was finished when Draco made an appearance, looking impeccable as always (even with the random unruly little curls in his hair) and distracting him enough to forget what he had just read. It was fine if Harry didn’t fully understand the implications of the text, though Sirius believed that any doubt he had would soon be cleared up; his godson was smart.

 

After the revelation that yes, Voldemort knew about the ancient magic that allowed Astoria to open up portals, Albus had used his Patronus and a Protean Charm to notify the Order that an urgent meeting was about to start. Now, Sirius was wondering what he was doing here instead of going to Romania with Charlie. Preferably with his kids, to hide from Albus forever. Flitwick looked like he had a hangover and through the speakerphone, Sirius noticed that only a few Order members made it. It seemed to annoy Albus greatly, but honestly, a little warning never hurt. 

 

“Headmaster, I would appreciate if you could warn us earlier,” Snape hissed, his voice sounding even more severe through the Muggle contraption. “Some of us have potions to prepare.”

 

“And some of us will be late to work,” Tonks continued. “What’s so important that it cannot wait?”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “As you all know, I scoured the forests of Albania looking for clues about Voldemort’s experiments. Vitaly informed you about the rituals, I believe?”

 

“The ones you think he’s wrong about?”

 

Sirius hid a smirk behind the palm of his right hand and mentally applauded Andromeda. As usual, Albus ignored the inconvenient truth and proceeded: “I later found a charming little house deep in the woods - why, it even had a water mill! It used to be Voldemort’s home when he visited the country.”

 

_Charming?_ What did Dumbledore put inside his lemon drops? He went on to discuss the warded door and how  _ he _ got past its protections and survived the traps, then how  _ he _ found the book and discovered what it contained. No mention of Sirius, Charlie or Harry, which made the Azkaban escapee consider the benefits of bringing the man back into the forest and feed him to the Ghoul. He also disliked the fact that Astoria’s power and training, carefully concealed from outsiders until now, was becoming widely known. Albus didn’t name her, but inquisitive minds might guess. 

 

“You are telling us that You-Know-Who takes souls and makes clothing with them?” Molly screeched.

 

“I am saying that he knows it is a possibility. Whether he is able to, is another matter.”

 

“Yet if you listened to Vitaly, it makes sense,” Moody said. “Why he would need that, I have no idea. What’s in that other world has to be valuable if he finds it worth studying.”

 

Sirius shook his head. “He enjoys learning, trivial things included. It might not be that important.”

 

“It still led him to a gruesome ritual and the knowledge that there is a place he can go to, that we thought was only open to very specific individuals.”

 

There was the noise of a chair being pushed back and Snape excused himself. The Mark, Sirius guessed. Dumbledore wasn’t the only one who called his “followers” without notice. Hoping the meeting could now end so that he could spend time with his son and godson and watch them play Quidditch against each other, he only listened to the rest of Albus’ words because if he didn’t pay attention, he would fall asleep. 

 

He decided to trust Vitaly and felt the urgent need to warn Astoria about her forays in the other world. What if she encountered Voldemort next time she visited?

 

 

***

 

 

In Malfoy Manor, standing near the empty body of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, the Dark Lord felt a pull, and for the first time in his life, he witnessed the very air in front of him tear itself open, revealing a land he had only dreamed of seeing.


	18. International Meddling

Cornelius Fudge was having a good day. It had started with his favourite breakfast and a cup of Earl Grey taken in the garden of his small manor; the weather had been surprisingly warm and sunny for an early November morning and the sun had put a smile on his face.

 

He had taken the Floo to the Ministry, relaxed and ready for a normal day. His dreaded meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister had been cancelled and the only thing on his agenda was an interview for the Prophet. He puffed up like a proud peacock at the thought. Now, sitting at his desk and reviewing Dolores’ latest report on the state of Hogwarts, he could honestly say, _life was good_.

 

A flying post-it note found its way to him and flew around his head until he caught it. With a huff, he unfolded it and frowned at the reminder that there was a Wizengamot meeting in thirty minutes. He didn’t remember any of this. Did someone forget to inform him? Extraordinary sessions happened twice or thrice a year for various reasons. While he was slightly miffed at the forgetfulness of his secretaries, he wouldn’t reprimand anyone this time. It could have been an unruly post-it’s decision, after all. Those things could be quite mischievous. No, he trusted his employees to do the right thing.

 

Straightening his robes, he left his bowler hat on his desk and headed downstairs, making sure to nod and smile at each and every Ministry worker and visitor he encountered. After all, his popularity depended on his attitude. Each greeting he received confirmed his belief that he was the best thing to happen to Magical Britain in the past few decades.

 

After a quick stop at the cafeteria for yet another cup of tea, this one of a lesser quality but still perfectly acceptable, he made his way to the Wizengamot Chamber and took his seat, noting that Lord Greengrass and Lord Yaxley seemed at odds. Many Lords and Ladies disapproved of the recent appointments for the empty seats. To Cornelius, the fact that young Gemma Farley hadn’t been found guilty of associating with the Lestrange brothers still rang some alarm bells, but he guessed it didn’t matter in the end: the man would be found eventually. This train of thoughts reminded him of Sirius Black and his day started to appear slightly darker.

 

Black’s file was empty, aside from the initial report of his arrest. Cornelius still hoped that somehow, someone had stolen the trial transcript, but with the security measures on prisoners’ files, he had to admit it was quite unlikely, and just in case, he had discretely called off the Dementors until the matter was resolved. With Skeeter looking for information everywhere, he decided to be proactive and had asked Scrimgeour to investigate before anything made it to the papers. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, the previous administration might have made a mistake. Those days were so hectic. He remembered that nothing was more important than expediting the trials for the late Barty Crouch and Minister Bagnold.

 

At least, if a blunder was made, it wasn’t his fault. Now, the real thorn in his side was still Harry bloody Potter, not to mention the missing Slytherins. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy, who was, according to Lord Yaxley, still bedridden today, had stopped looking for his son, but Lord Nott, the Warrington family and Lord Greengrass’ ex-wife were still desperately searching for their own sons and daughters. Lord Greengrass had said the girls were safe and as the Head of his House, he couldn’t be questioned or blamed for keeping his children from their mother. Still, Cornelius believed he knew something about the other teenagers.

 

He shook his head, trying to dispel an incoming headache. He turned to Madam Marchbanks, Chief Witch recently elected after Dumbledore’s role within these chambers became available, and nodded, giving his approval to start the session. He noticed that some seats were empty, which wasn’t surprising in extraordinary sessions.

 

Madam Marchbanks, a no-nonsense woman who reminded him of his own mother, called for order and started by announcing that this would be a short and private meeting, reassuring many people who probably did not wish to spend an entire day arguing when they were already doing this once a month.

 

“This session was organised at the request of the International Confederation of Wizards. Babajide Akingbade has sent a delegation representing ten countries. I would like you all to welcome them in Britain.”

 

Cornelius felt his pulse race in anticipation. The ICW had sent a representative only once since Dumbledore’s appointment as Supreme Mugwump. Perhaps they wished to take a closer look at Britain now that they no longer had a direct source within the Ministry, and he could only hope that Akingbade was a sane man. It wouldn’t do to give so much power to someone who agreed with the old bearded fool.

 

Ten witches and wizards were led towards the centre of the room, wearing the same black robes with their countries’ flag on their left breast. One of them represented more than one nation: Cornelius identified it as Scandinavia. Its bearer stood in front of the others, most likely as designated speaker.

 

The other nine magicians came from Spain, Brazil, Japan, Australia, Indonesia, Ethiopia, Egypt, Iran and Russia.

 

“Thank you for welcoming us here. My name is Camilla Nordrum and I represent Norway within the Scandinavian Ministry for Magic.” The woman waited until her greetings were returned and smiled at Cornelius, who felt instantly at ease. Such a benign smile! “We have heard about the changes brought to Hogwarts and wished to witness them ourselves. We are interested in your focus on the students’ safety. We hope to learn from this experience.”

 

Internally, Cornelius squealed in delight. This was it. His efforts - greatly aided by Dolores’ work - would be recognised worldwide. He would bring change to education everywhere - he would be hailed and admired. The next election was now a guarantee. He couldn’t believe his luck.

 

“Of course, we would be delighted to bring you to Hogwarts!” he exclaimed, almost vibrating. “What would you require?”

 

Camilla’s smile widened. “We believe that a period of two weeks is necessary to observe each lesson twice and observe the way the changes affected the students and their environment. If living on site poses any issue, we would of course reside elsewhere.”

 

The Minister was ready to approve everything immediately. As Madam Marchbanks brought the decision to a vote, it seemed that the Wizengamot would rather not have outsiders spend their nights within the castle. While these men and women would be foolish to attempt anything, Cornelius ultimately saw their point.

 

The two-weeks observation period was approved with only one abstention and one refusal.

 

 

***

 

 

It was Monday after lunch and Ron’s mind looked like a Chess set. On one side of the board, the Ministry, the Toad, Professor Runcorn and Parkinson, and even stupid Percy stood proudly. On the other, the ICW representatives observed them. He knew he couldn’t be the only one who didn’t believe a word of Fudge’s fancy speech when he brought them to the Great Hall and declared that the world had taken an interest in their educational reforms. They may have been looking, but it was probably bad news for the government.

 

His mum had sent him a letter during the weekend, one that had, as always, been read by someone before making its way to him. It was the only way he could have any news of his friends, and it never stopped hurting. Harry dating the ferret didn’t matter in the slightest, he just wanted to see him, argue about the Cannons and laugh until he couldn’t breathe. But for now, he had no choice but rely on other people to get glimpses of Harry and Hermione’s lives.

 

Reading between the lines, the coded sentences made him understand that Hermione had done _something,_ and the consequences would be obvious during the next two weeks. Ron might not be book smart, but he was a Chess master. He recognised manipulations when he saw them.

 

Madam Nordrum reminded him of McGonagall: a woman who shouldn’t be underestimated. She was already talking with the Inquisitorial Squad, feigning interest in their methods. Ron didn’t stay to hear them boast about their position, hurrying to Gryffindor tower instead. As usual, an Elf transported him to the Chamber, where he found most of the Defence Club members in an uproar. The youngest seemed to believe that their visitors would agree with Umbridge and Fudge, and Neville was trying to reassure them. Catching his eye, Ron nodded and made his way to the back of the room, asking everyone to quiet down - then using _Sonorus_ on himself to make sure everyone heard him.

 

“Okay, listen up!” Curious eyes stared at him. “Stop worrying! I don’t think these people are here to make things worse for us.”

 

“The ICW replaced Professor Dumbledore! They agree with the Minister!”

 

Ron raised his left eyebrow and looked at the tiny Hufflepuff who was on the verge of panic. “They had to.”

 

“He’s right,” Neville said. “If a high-ranking member of the ICW is under investigation for any reason, they have to suspend him until the issue is cleared up. The new Supreme Mugwump made it clear that he fully supported his country’s laws on Underage Magic. Do you know where he’s from?” He looked around, arms crossed. “Uganda. Did you know that over there, since 1974, children learn Wandless magic at four years old? Their magic has a special restriction to prevent them from casting anything harmful until they are older, but they start learning early. They can practice outside of school under supervision. They go to magical primary schools! Someone who is proud of his country for that would never support Fudge.”

 

Ron had no idea about any of this and welcomed the information, feeling a little bit smug. He was right. They were here to create trouble for the Ministry!

 

“What do we do?” a Seventh Year Ravenclaw asked amid excited whispers.

 

Ron smirked. “We tell the truth. We show them what’s happening. What Runcorn does. What Umbridge is like. We fight back.”

 

“Twenty points to Gryffindor, Mister Weasley.”

 

His smirk turned into a wide grin. Standing at the back of the Chamber, McGonagall looked immensely proud, and Ron felt like a hero for the first time.

 

 

***

 

 

The representatives showed no hint of disapproval at any point during the first week, only polite curiosity. It was only on Friday afternoon that many students received a letter summoning them in ten different classrooms. Neville and Ron found themselves surrounded by a mass of Ravenclaws who were all part of the Defence Club, and a man who wore the Russian flag on his chest locked the door and muttered a few words to ward the classroom.

 

“Thank you for coming. Take a seat.”

 

Ron thought his demeanour and attire was rather Snape-like. Everyone else must have thought the same way, their intimidation obvious in the way they sat carefully and kept quiet.

 

“My name is Vitaly Gnedykh and I represent Russia for the ICW. Primarily, I am a Potions Master and Dark Arts teacher at a private school.”

 

Ron wondered if meddling in dark magic had given him that horrible scar around his neck.

 

“You are here because I would like to understand why House Elves have taken your place in your classes.”

 

Someone inhaled so quickly that they ended up coughing their lungs out and another student even whimpered. Ron stared at the man’s face. Vitaly didn’t wait for a reply and started pacing.

 

“You are meeting somewhere else and actually learning something useful, aren’t you? I admire your resourcefulness. As you may have guessed, the ICW does not approve of the changes brought to Hogwarts. We will do our very best to turn things around, but you will hear upsetting stories while we work against your Ministry. I can only tell you to stay cautious. Learn all you can, don’t limit yourselves and don’t be seen.”

 

Questions started pouring and he answered most of them. When he dismissed them, he asked Ron to stay behind. The door closed once more. Curious, the redhead looked at the Russian with a slight frown on his face.

 

“I have something for you.” He handed him a letter, and Ron recognised Harry’s handwriting.

 

“H-how?!”

 

“I may or may not be living nearby.”

 

“You teach at- at that place!”

 

“I do. Go now, read them. Find me if you want to reply.”

 

 

***

 

 

_Malfoy Manor_

 

 

The portal was still open. How, Voldemort didn’t know, but he was rather grateful. It would have been difficult to study it if it had disappeared, and the results of his investigations so far were more than satisfying.

 

Using the souls that the Dementors had not yet completely consumed, he had woven a cloak, wrapped it around Lucius’ body, then animated the man and sent him to the other world with a tether. He brought him back a few hours later and found the body intact. Unwilling to risk a useful Death Eater, he took yet another soul and fused it with Lucius’ empty husk. He then put his creation under the Imperius Curse and let him explore the other side of the portal for an entire day. Legilimency showed him what he had seen, and more importantly, that someone had walked in this world, leaving behind a trace that could be followed. Strangely, the trace reminded him of the familiarity of his Horcruxes.

 

He was convinced it had a special meaning, almost like a prophecy. And as he was drowning himself in his studies, he almost killed Wormtail for daring to disturb him.

 

“What could be important enough to bother me, I wonder. _Crucio_!” The short man’s wails were music to his ears. “Get up and talk!”

 

The way he trembled and shivered, and the wet spot on his pants were deeply amusing.

 

“M-m-my Lord, this was found earlier today-”

 

Impatiently, Voldemort snatched the scroll of parchment from his servant’s hands. His eyes roamed over the first paragraph, and his breath caught.

 

“Get out!” he snarled, and the whimpering coward left in a hurry. With increasing disbelief, he tightened his hold on the parchment, his hip colliding with his desk. The ink pot tipped and smeared a black mess all over his research, but he didn’t care. Not when this existed.

 

He started laughing madly, magic crackling all around him in a mix of fury and exhilaration.

 

“Dumbledore, you old fool! Did you think you could hide him forever?”

 

The parchment fell from his hands, and, still laughing, he looked at the first words once more:

 

 

_COPY - MINISTRY ARCHIVES_

INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS

SCANDINAVIAN MINISTRY FOR MAGIC

Branch: NORWAY

 

Please find enclosed the results of the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for Harry James Potter, born July 31, 1980.

 

 

Everything he had ever heard about the boy revealed an average student, not someone who could ever earn those marks. Some of these subjects were not even taught at Hogwarts. It could only mean one thing: these Outstanding results were Voldemort’s, if he had ever bothered to take his exams with the ICW after leaving Hogwarts. Potter shared his knowledge.

 

“A Horcrux. Potter is my Horcrux! Oh, this is amazing. Did you want us to kill each other? Look, Dumbledore, and weep, as your plans crumble at your feet!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not agree with me at all. Also, the PSN store sales means I finally bought a PS4 and about 10 games, they're the reason this chapter was a bit late! :D
> 
> Anyway, Voldy doesn't know that Harry is no longer a Horcrux, obviously.


	19. Apathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, as it sets things up for the next one, which is almost completely written.

 

Harry still couldn’t believe that Astoria had found a Horcrux at Hogwarts and managed to bring it back with her, even two weeks after it happened. Could they actually win the war before Voldemort started killing Muggleborns? Dumbledore’s face, when the girl had skipped into the dining hall with Ravenclaw’s Diadem in her hands, had made Theo laugh so hard that he ended up with a bruised rib. Most students at Lilium didn’t know enough details to understand what the Diadem was or what having it here meant, but this was it, right? There was only Nagini left to kill before Voldemort could die.

 

Those who knew this were in a festive mood ever since she brought it, with one notable exception: Ignotus Peverell was extremely worried that taking a Horcrux through the other world would have consequences and was still acting like Astoria was a disappointment. Anubis the Lethifold never left her side anymore and she seemed unbothered by the portrait’s attitude.

 

It was mid-November now and the Order seemed to meet more and more often, leaving the students to themselves even when they were supposed to have classes. Professor Gnedykh was away on an assignment from the ICW, of which he had very recently become a member.

 

Unwilling to overwhelm his mind and body again, Harry only made himself available to answer questions, instead of taking the teachers’ place. With his NEWTs, he could easily teach everything. Draco, on the other hand, took over Gnedykh’s Potions classes and seemed quite happy to do so. Otherwise, if Ignotus or the Potters didn’t teach from one of the frames in the classrooms, everyone was left to their own devices. The Seventh Years made sure to pay attention to Evander and to help him, as he didn’t have the discipline necessary to keep up without a teaching structure in place. Everyone else fared quite well. The only one who was in a bad mood was Blaise, because sunlight was getting rarer and, just like a year ago, he had trouble adapting to long periods of darkness. No doubt he would once again spend the winter break in Italy.

 

Harry was quite happy with his life at the moment. His Mind Healer was a great help, Sirius was back from Albania, Draco showed him how much he loved him every day, and he enjoyed taking care of the babies when Narcissa needed a break. And there was Quidditch. Both teams excelled and turned each match into a fierce, but fair, competition. He would probably never forget Draco’s brilliant smile when his team won for the first time. Of course, there had been small matches in the garden before, with mismatched teams and no guidance from anyone, just for fun. Having an actual pitch, directions from two adults, a schedule and real matches felt amazing. It made Lilium seem like an actual school.

 

And it was one more distraction from the impending war. Harry supposed he should feel guilty about his lack of involvement - but he didn’t, not exactly. Not after what the Ministry had done to him.

 

He shivered and let a smile bloom on his lips when Draco slipped behind him and kissed his neck. “Why are you brooding in here, all alone?”

 

Harry smirked and turned around to kiss his boyfriend. “Not brooding, just thinking.” The lounge, when empty, was a great place to do just that.

 

“About?”

 

He shrugged. “Things. Astoria. How she told Ignotus to stop being paranoid.”

 

It had been rather fun, in a way. The younger girl was a little firecracker when she wasn’t lost in her strange, detached mood.

 

“Do you think he was right? About the danger?” Draco asked, his hands running up and down Harry’s spine, making him melt and press himself closer to his body.

 

“Probably. But we’re safe here. If Voldy does anything, the government has our backs. Sirius asked for a patrol if they can spare one, and they said they see no problem with it.”

He saw doubt in Draco’s eyes, and knew he was worried. Harry didn’t trust the Aurors either, not completely, but he tried to force himself. There was no way Voldemort could break the Fidelius: Tonks would never betray them. Of that, he was certain. He also wished she could be there. With the travelling restrictions, she hadn’t been able to visit in months and he missed her jokes and attitude. Perhaps she would find the time to take a plane at some point.

 

“You’re doing it again.”

 

“What?” Harry blinked in confusion.

 

“Staring into nothing.”

 

“I’m just distracted.”

 

Draco accepted his explanation, like he always did, and continued to rub different shapes into his back, turning Harry into a sleepy mess who yawned and rested his head on his shoulder. They were found like this, cute and cuddly, by their loud and obnoxious friends when their classes ended, and any niggling feeling about Voldemort finding them quickly vanished.

 

 

In a frame behind the teenagers, Ignotus frowned, thinking that something wasn’t quite right, yet unable to be taken completely seriously. Why would anyone disregard his warnings, or think about it and forget them so easily? Harry wasn’t the type of person to underestimate his enemy.

 

Frustrated, he tried to remember if he had a painting to visit anywhere else, so he could alert someone else. But the only familial frame seemed to be in the untouched Peverell vault in Gringotts and would be no help at all.

 

He resolved to stalk Dumbledore around the hotel and school, but all it did was teach him how odd the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts was.

 

In the end, there was only one choice, as distasteful as it was: Lestrange. It took a while to intercept him, because he spent most of his time in his room and seemed to avoid any room that contained a Muggle object. But he did sometimes visit the school itself and shared his own knowledge of dark spells and Death Eaters duelling tactics with the older students. It was four days after his initial decision to get rid of the dangerous and suspicious apathy in everyone’s mind that he finally managed to catch the rogue Death Eater alone.

 

It took one look to know that he wasn’t affected by whatever had happened to the other residents. His sneer was quite spectacular. And after an explanation of the other world and Astoria’s power, he seemed completely aware of the consequences of her mistake. Taking a Horcrux through that world would carve a path for the owner of the soul shard, and with what Dumbledore, Sirius and Charlie had found in Albania, the hope that Voldemort didn’t know about that world had been annihilated.

 

“So, any reason why the old goat would just keep these things intact?” Rabastan wondered aloud, and Ignotus had to admit he’d had similar thoughts.

 

“Studying, perhaps.”

 

Scoffing, the man scratched the air where his missing arm should be, phantom pains etched on his face. “It’s affecting them.”

 

Ignotus sighed and shook his head. It would explain so much. Rabastan’s body already contained some of the Dark Lord’s magic, even if he didn’t have the Dark Mark anymore, and it had likely saved him from the influence of the Diadem. The Horcrux was too strong, its aura too powerful. Harry could have been spared if he was still a soul jar himself. So, there was only one solution, and Dumbledore would be furious.

 

“Find where he keeps them all, and destroy them, Lestrange.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

 

***

 

_Malfoy Manor_

 

“A few days ago, an ICW representative showed enough carelessness to let slip confidential information in the presence of one of my faithful followers. What this follower unearthed then revealed a secret I would never have imagined. Listen, and listen well: Harry Potter is to be protected at all costs. Your priority is to find him and bring him to me. Do not harm him. If there is the slightest wound on him, death will be your sole salvation.”

 

“Yes, My Lord.”

 

At the back of the room, Bellatrix seethed.

 

She felt humiliated. Her Lord kept refusing to let her go on a murdering rampage, preferring to focus on politics to manipulate the Ministry from the shadows. On top of that, he wanted her to see a healer, one of his faithful followers who resided with them, but Bellatrix was fine. She was ecstatic and alive, she didn’t need to be prodded and poked, and she couldn’t stand being useless. Everyone else was given tasks. Her only mission? Stay in the manor.

 

She had no name anymore, having been disowned by her own cousin and kicked out of the Lestrange family when her marriage was dissolved. She couldn’t hope to contribute to her Lord’s war efforts now that any possession and Galleons she had were forever locked in Gringotts. Worse, the Cup her Lord had asked her to protect was out of her reach.

 

And now, he wanted the Potter boy captured to dote on him? Did something go wrong with his resurrection?

 

She was certain it had something to do with Potter’s blood. It was tainted by his mother’s Muggle parentage, it had to have messed with the Dark Lord’s head somehow.

 

In her madness, she suddenly had a brilliant idea.

 

If Potter died, surely whatever had turned her Lord into a shadow of himself would be gone, wouldn’t it? Cackling, she convinced herself that she could save him. She was no traitor, if she did it to help.

 

By being so close to him, she heard things. She knew he was close to finding the boy’s location. As soon as he discovered it, she would go, and she knew exactly who would accompany her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Wizards Unite code is 8039 8459 3840 :D


	20. When the Sky Bleeds

“What is this?” Draco said, puzzled, holding a magazine in front of the newspaper stand. Why did Daphne ask him to buy it? “It’s just advertisements!” He shook the thick booklet in front of Pansy’s amused face while Harry laughed from the next aisle. 

 

They were doing some last minute shopping at the gas station after a pleasant afternoon spent riding his moped with Harry holding his waist tightly and Pansy following on a bike (she wasn’t a big fan of brooms, but the bike Theo had introduced her to won her heart). She couldn’t always keep up when they headed out, the moped being faster, but she didn’t seem to mind.

 

Today was November 28th, and they had barely seen daylight. It was now pitch black, though the clock on the wall behind the cash register indicated 5pm. It had been too quiet at Lilium, and Draco had been eager to drive away, if only to get rid of the strange, cottony feeling that seemed to blanket his thoughts when he stayed inside. He was much more alert outside and Harry agreed with his conclusion: there must be some sort of mould in the building or a magical residue that made them feel sluggish. Even Hydrus and Cepheus cried less often. Convincing everyone that something might not be completely healthy inside had been a struggle, but he ultimately won, which resulted in a nearly empty hotel since early in the morning: Sirius was at the Ministry with Astoria for her training, Flitwick and Dumbledore had decided to visit Gringotts in St. Petersburg and had taken Blaise, Evander, Katie and Millicent with them, Gnedykh was still away with the ICW, and the rest of the teenagers and professors, Mister Hammer and Miss Sundheim included, were in Tromsø for the day. Thus, Lilium only hosted Narcissa, the babies, and Lestrange.  

 

Still outraged at the magazine, he tried to find an article, only to see his reading interrupted by yet another ad, one that seemed to suggest that acquiring a car would automatically grant a naked, submissive woman to the buyer.

 

He might be well-adjusted to the Muggle world by now, but such blatant sexism still astonished him. Not that the Wizarding World was big on equality, but sometimes it didn’t seem so backwards. He remembered when he and Harry had been spat on in Oslo because they were holding hands in a Muggle area. Unused to homophobia, he’d been completely bewildered. 

 

Pansy told him that Daphne enjoyed reading this particular magazine for the ridiculous tests it offered and the saucy articles that would never be printed in Witch Weekly. With a twitch of his eyebrows, Draco asked if Warrington had turned the older Greengrass girl insane, and all he got in return was a mad giggle from his best friend.

 

“It’s not funny! Her brain will rot if she reads this. Honestly. I should let Cassius know what he’s getting into if he marries her.”

 

“Ha. Apparently, they read it together.”

 

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Draco said a silent prayer for his former Quidditch teammate who was now lost to the curse that were Muggle magazines for women. When Pansy couldn’t stop snickering, he stuck his tongue out in a childish display that made Harry snort adorably. Since only the cashier who wore a prosthetic arm was paying attention to them, he quickly pecked his lips, gaining a wide smile in response. Harry took his hand, and Draco’s stomach quivered as if they had only started dating. 

 

He didn’t spot any of the dreaded teabags in the blue basket Harry was holding, and he gently squeezed his fingers. “There’s hope for you yet.”

 

“Mh?” Harry muttered, confused, before his gaze focused on something behind Draco. “Oh wow, look at the sky!”

 

Draco turned around and gasped. Since sundown, the night sky had been unbelievably clear, the full moon easily dispelling shadows. In this remote part of the country, it wasn’t particularly unusual to be blessed by the sight of the Milky Way or, at this time of the year, an aurora borealis, though they were more frequent near Tromsø. The first one Draco had seen had taken his breath away and made him study atmospheric phenomena even harder. But this one? It was spectacular. It was nothing like any of the others. 

 

Dancing in the sky like a graceful veil, bright red lights painted an otherworldly picture. Draco knew how rare they were, how they formed and why they were less common than their blue-green counterparts, and he would never have hoped to see one in his lifetime. He glanced at Pansy, who nodded and headed towards the cashier after taking the basket, then he let Harry drag him outside. They took a few steps to reach the side of the station, looking for a place as devoid of electric lights as possible without venturing far, and Draco let out a breathy laugh, delighted. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, pressed his body against his back and slowly swayed from side to side.

 

Harry hummed softly, relaxed against him. “I love you, Draco.”

 

A bubbly feeling took hold in his chest. “You’re such a sap.”

 

“Doesn’t matter when I’m your sap, does it?”

 

“In this case, I love you too.” He smiled and kissed the back of his head, then squeezed him tightly, but soon realised that Harry had tensed up. “Harry?”

 

“Shh. Something’s weird.” The black-haired boy looked around and Draco let go of him. Shortly after, the electricity went out behind them. They both turned around.

 

The gas station was only visible in the eerie light from the aurora and the moon. Voices could be heard from inside, now that the rumbling of the heavy generators had ceased. The quiet unnerved Draco, and he was glad to see Pansy running towards them. 

 

“Does that happen often?” she asked.

 

Harry shrugged. “Usually during a storm.” Draco recognised his attempt to conceal his emotions.

 

“Huh. Well, I’ll go get my bike. See you in a minute.”

 

Harry started. “Parkinson, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

 

Draco was about to ask why, when he identified just what made his boyfriend so jumpy. It was a switch in the atmosphere, something that made fear creep up his spine and threatened to root him to the spot. Harry’s greater sensibility to magic must have alerted him strongly.

 

He saw a Muggle come out of the station and move towards the generators with a flashlight. His presence didn’t reassure him, and Draco found himself counting the shadows on the ground. He breathed in and out slowly, his fingers tight around Harry’s. When the Muggle went back inside, Harry cast a Patronus. The stag, almost solid, awaited instructions.

 

“Message to Sirius: strange magic at gas station. Can you come check it out as soon as possible?”

 

It vanished, and a few seconds later, Harry’s wand hissed in Parseltongue. Its owner immediately took a fighting stance, and one of the shadows moved. Draco took several steps back, making Pansy jump out of her skin. “Fuck, what are you doing?”

 

“There’s someone-”

 

He froze. A woman walked towards them, her wild hair as messy as Hermione’s, a wicked grin on a face that was familiar for all the wrong reasons.

 

“Oooh, it’s ickle baby Drakey!” 

 

“A-Andromeda?”

 

Wishful thinking. He knew this was not the aunt he had come to love. It was the one he had never met, the one he had hoped would never look at him. Harry dug his fingers in his bicep. 

 

She threw her head back and laughed, a high-pitched, deranged sound that made him sick. “And look who’s there, it’s Potty!”

 

Wands out, the three of them closed ranks. He heard Pansy whisper an incantation, saw her recently acquired Patronus appear and leave, and he hoped whoever would get it could come fast. Then, he felt a tug, and Harry cursed. Anti-disapparition wards. No doubt Harry had just attempted to whisk them away. While he didn’t have his license, he knew how to do it. 

 

Bellatrix took one more step, and Harry moved. A _Stupefy_ left his wand, easily avoided, and Draco sent an _Incarcerous_. The woman batted it away.

 

Harry pushed Draco to the side. “Stay behind me, cover me.” His green eyes sparkled dangerously, and Draco threw a strong shield just in time to block a nasty-looking hex. 

 

It took very little time for Harry to find his footing, and Draco and Pansy did their best to protect him when he started casting curses, moving as fluidly as water. Bellatrix’s laugh echoed in the night, and before Draco could worry about the Muggles still inside the shop, someone cast a _Bombarda_ at the gas pumps. They went up in flames, the explosion knocking Pansy to the ground. 

 

Draco barely avoided a spell that looked like barbed wire. Pansy screamed behind him, but he couldn’t let anything distract him. He was convinced that Harry would be fine. He had to be. He was hurling spells at a speed that would make Flitwick proud.

 

He let a wave of calm wash over him. His Occlumency shields snapped into place, his focus narrowed, and he moved away from Harry and Pansy. A man and a woman stood near the flames. Alecto and Amycus Carrow. Draco shivered. Instead of waiting for them to attack, he covered himself with a _Protego Horribilis_ and immediately incapacitated Amycus with a Stone Lungs Curse. The man was certainly not expecting him to be proficient at obscure spells.

 

Alecto snarled and the green light of an _Avada Kedavra_ flew towards him. He dove to the side, cast a cutting curse that reached her left shoulder. He concentrated on his movements. It was better to stay mobile. While Alecto’s casting speed increased, he still managed to prevent Amycus from crawling away. He summoned his wand and instantly broke it in half. Amycus yelled, stood up shakily, and ran towards him. A blasting curse sent him straight into the flames.

 

Pansy stood next to Draco now, sneering at the burning body. Alecto lost her interest in the duel, too busy trying to save her brother. Between his screams, the roar of the fire, the yells from the Muggles and Bellatrix’s taunts, Draco had a hard time hearing Harry’s voice. Pansy _Stupefied_ Alecto and took her wand. 

 

They looked at each other grimly when Amycus stopped moving. Together, they once again sent their Patronus straight to Lilium. 

 

Draco then glanced at the Muggles who stood fearfully a good distance away from the fire and the small explosions that just seemed endless. “Pans, go to them. Make them leave. I’ll help Harry.”

 

She nodded and started running. And from the darkness of the trees, a growl turned Draco’s blood to ice.

 

 

***

 

 

Rabastan noted that Narcissa looked exhausted when he joined her in the lounge. He didn’t leave his room often, but as they were the only ones here now, he didn’t risk running into Dumbledore at least.   

 

“Babies bothering you?”

 

If she was startled by his presence, she didn’t show it. She didn’t glance his way either, keeping her eyes firmly on her sleepy twins. “They are teething.”

 

The Death Eater knew nothing about infants, but teething sounded difficult. He paced slowly in front of the lit fireplace, using the quiet to calm his restless mind and his magic. He was also feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and accomplishment at thwarting both the Dark Lord and Albus at the same time: the later might have been smart enough to keep the remaining Horcruxes separate, but wherever he took the Cup - if it was still whole - he didn’t have time to reunite it with the Diadem.

 

With Ignotus and the Potters help (and Merlin, was he grateful for the inherent nosiness of portraits), he had finally managed to find the elusive tiara. Fiendfyre made quick work of it, though not without showing him some of the worst moments of his life. 

 

With the Diadem reduced to ashes, it seemed like a thick fog had been lifted from the entire Tranquil Spire domain. He wondered how everyone would react upon their return. 

 

It had the side-effect of making the babies quite grumpy, since the general apathy had affected them and made them more docile than they would normally be. Rabastan sincerely believed that Draco had been a horribly demanding little monster and that Narcissa must be used to it, so he didn’t really empathise with her suffering. After all, when it became too much, she just asked the Elves to take them away, or she let someone else handle them. No, Narcissa wasn’t in the worst situation for a single mother saddled with twin boys.

 

A wobbly, half-formed German Shepherd Patronus shimmered into existence and Pansy’s voice alerted them about strange happenings nearby, whatever a gas station was. Raising a curious eyebrow, Rabastan took in Narcissa’s sudden worried expression. “Anything we should be concerned about?” he asked.

 

“Draco likes to stop there to buy snacks. I should go.”

 

“And leave me with your kids? Are you insane?”

 

She hesitated. She didn’t trust him, nobody did, for obvious reasons. He shrugged. “If anything happens, Potter can protect them. He could win a duel against the Dark Lord now, and not just because of his usual dumb luck. You shouldn’t discount Draco’s talent either, your boy is a fantastic fighter.”

 

“They can’t Apparate, what if they’re attacked by Werewolves? I should never have let them get out today.”

 

“With Norway’s rehabilitation program and Weres reserves, it’s doubtful. Send a message to the others, they can go.”

 

He couldn’t cast a Patronus himself, so he simply watched as Narcissa’s seahorse appeared and carried her message away. A few seconds later, Cepheus started crying, and just as any other twin, Hydrus followed suit as a show of support. Rabastan grimaced and quickly escaped, closing the door behind him and nodding at the painting in the entrance hall, where James Potter hung out.

 

As much as he wanted to ignore Parkinson’s warning, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. 

 

He was proven right when a massive Sea Wyvern Patronus blinded him. 

 

“Death Eater attack! Bellatrix! Anti-disapparition wards, gas station. Help!”

 

He ran back inside the lounge. “Narcissa, they’re in trouble. Help me find them.”

 

Her eyes widened slightly, and she stood up. “You can’t go, the spell I put on you forbids it.”

 

“And you can’t risk orphaning your children! Show me where they are!”

 

He lowered his Occlumency shields and visions of an ugly Muggle building slammed into his head, then vanished just as quickly. 

 

With a sense of trepidation and a sinister excitement at the idea of seeing his dear sister-in-law again, he broke through the wards of the hotel, feeling the pull on his magic, the energy of the spell flaring and thrumming through his veins like molten lava.

 

The jinx on the station forced him to Apparate further away from the fight than he would have liked, and as any trained soldier, he first checked his surroundings, then cast Detection spells. He saw Bella and Potter duelling with a fluidity that made him unnervingly proud of the boy. Parkinson was nowhere to be seen but her magical signature held steady within the range of his spell. He was about to kill Bella from behind when a blood-curdling scream broke both his and Potter’s concentration.

 

Potter was hit by a Slicing Hex that took out his glasses. Blood poured down his face. To his surprise, Rabastan heard him bellow a Blood-Boiling Curse shortly after. The resulting gasp made him smirk: Bella hadn’t been expecting that one, and she was hit. The younger Lestrange didn’t wait around, not when that scream had been so desperate. He rushed past Potter, slipped on the grass, fell on his unique hand, stood up and found it covered in blood. Something had dragged Draco away. With a quick look at the moon, Rabastan understood, and despite the pain he felt all over his body, he raised his wand and ran.

 

He would have recognised Greyback anywhere. The body trapped under the creature’s paws wasn’t moving anymore.

 

“ _Invoco Lanceam_!”

 

A long spear floated in front of him. He Transfigured it into silver and Greyback turned around, his teeth dripping red, his fur matted. 

 

“Yeah, look here, fucking filth!” The spear flew and narrowly missed its target. Rabastan rolled away just in time to avoid a nasty bite and sent a barrage of spells towards the monster. He heard people Apparating outside of the wards, blocked out Potter’s enraged spellcasting. He felt himself grow weaker, tasted his own blood on his tongue, but he kept at it. 

 

Greyback slashed his remaining arm. He held onto his wand, Conjured a silver knife, and with the last of his magic, propelled himself straight onto the beast’s back, stabbing him repeatedly. When Greyback died, Rabastan blacked out.

 

He must have rolled onto his side at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at Draco, only recognisable by his white-blond hair. He counted many different shoes all around them, heard sobs and panicked voices, but all he could think of was that he refused to see that kid die so horribly.

 

Groaning with the effort it cost him, he crawled until he was close enough to grasp his hand. He squeezed it and laughed silently. He had chosen to die today when he left the hotel, and he didn’t do it for nothing. Clenching his teeth, he started muttering a long litany that only those crouched above Draco heard. He met Potter’s desperate gaze and saw a flash of understanding in them. 

 

As his magic drained out of him and poured into the teenager, he slowly drifted away. He thought he heard a choked up “thank you”, and he swore he imagined the warmth of a body holding him, but he must have been dreaming. No one would comfort someone like him, after all.

 

 

***

 

 

Sirius couldn’t breathe. How could everything have gone wrong so quickly? How did they even find them? He was holding Harry tightly, his eyes never leaving Draco’s body while the Healers worked to stop the bleeding. When one of them finally used a Stasis Spell, he closed his eyelids tightly, and Harry shuddered violently. 

 

The Norwegian Aurors were swarming the grounds. They had stopped the fire and had taken care of the Muggles, but Sirius didn’t care. His son was dying. He was only alive because Lestrange, of all people, gave him his magic to allow him to fight a bit longer. For that reason, Sirius had pressed a reassuring hand on his shoulder when he took his last breath. He might not deserve it, but the man had broken through Narcissa’s spell to help, effectively killing himself in the process, a slow and agonising death.

 

Sirius knew he would never forget the second Patronus he received that day, when he was still in Oslo with Astoria. The fear had been reminiscent of October 1981, the reality even worse. Draco was his son and he loved Harry just as much. There was no terror that could come close to what he had felt when he Apparated, saw the green-eyed teenager almost kill Bellatrix while a wound on his face bled profusely, and finally found the mangled body of his adopted child. As soon as the Aurors dismantled the Disapparition wards, Bella vanished, and Harry crumbled over Draco’s chest. 

 

“I used Dark Arts.”

 

He blinked and looked at the spooked teenager in his arms. He forced himself to stay strong. Harry’s wound had been cleaned up, but he would keep a jagged scar from the top of his head down to his cheekbone. Idly, he thought that it was a shame, because the boy had been delighted when his lightning bolt ended up barely visible. “That’s okay. You did what you had to.”

 

“Did- is she dead? Pansy killed someone today.”

 

Wincing, Sirius rubbed circles on Harry’s back. “She’s not.” He noticed that Pansy was surrounded by Healers and couldn’t stop shaking, but from what he could hear, it was anger, not shock. She seemed furious because Alecto was still alive. Astoria, who had stayed behind until it was safe, was holding her hand. “You know it was self-defence, right? Even if you had killed her. Pansy will be alright. The Aurors have Alecto”

 

Harry hid his face in the crook of his neck. It became harder to fight against the tears, harder not to blame himself. Why had they grown so complacent? Why had they allowed their guard to slip so much and forgotten what the full moon meant? He remembered being warned by Ignotus but disregarding everything he said. Was Voldemort able to track them because of Astoria? If she realised it, how would they handle her guilt? He figured he should contact her father, just in case. 

 

More voices joined the ones already there. He paid no true attention to them, but recognised Albus, Filius, Terence, Katie, Adrian and Crowfeet. Albus tried to speak to him, unsuccessfully. Sirius only listened to the Mediwitch who handed him a Portkey - a rope, so it would be easy to grab for many people. 

 

Before grabbing it, he pointed at Rabastan’s corpse. “He saved Draco’s life. Look up his family traditions for burial.” 

 

Someone he didn’t know agreed, and soon they were all whisked away to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comments of the previous chapter, Hikkira guessed what would happen, so congrats :P


	21. Awake

Harry had thrown up several times in the past few hours. Every time he ate something, he couldn’t keep it down, so he warily eyed the chicken broth in front of him. It smelled amazing and he was so hungry, but his throat was irritated, and he just wanted to sleep. A foot hit his leg under the table, and he glowered at Theo, who had joined him in Draco’s room. The table was small and had been brought it after Harry refused to leave during meals.

 

The Lycanthropic Wizarding Hospital was located in Tromsø It specialised in irreversible curses and had the largest department dedicated to Werewolf research in the whole of Europe. Thanks to their scientists, Norway was a haven for anyone infected. They considered the Wolfsbane Potion an aberration, arguing that its ingredients were poisonous and would only result in early deaths. They had developed an alternative a long time ago, but it didn’t gain the approval of many countries due to the fact that it contained human blood and did not repress the wolf. Instead, it quietened the curse itself and got rid of the war between the victim’s human mind and the creature living within them. The scientists argued that this tug between man and beast caused all that pain and thirst for blood on the full moon. It forced the wolf to hurt himself. With the potion, they still transformed into what looked almost like a normal wolf, only with a shorter snout, but they were basically real wolves. With dedicated parks to run into on the full moon, they satisfied the wolf’s wish for company. It could hunt and play. Packs formed and were forgotten with sunrise. When the wolves came back the next month, they remembered. 

 

There were worse places than Norway to be infected with Lycanthropy. But what good was a specialised hospital when they had so much trouble waking Draco up?

 

It had been three days. Both Harry and Sirius had rented a room at the nearest hotel, unwilling to leave Draco alone, even if he was sleeping. Narcissa was there almost every day, arriving early in the morning and leaving at dinner time, while the babies were taken care of by everyone at Lilium. Lessons were suspended until further notice, so the students could visit. Harry didn’t like it when they were here. It was too much. Too many people, too much noise.

 

Theo was an exception. He was his silent friend, the one who was always in the shadows and who didn’t really do much aside from cooking. Harry remembered when he taught him a few recipes, when they couldn’t let an Elf handle the meals because their magic wouldn’t mix with a Muggle oven. It seemed like an old memory already. 

 

Theo kicked his leg again. “You should eat.”

 

He sighed and tasted the broth, hoping he wouldn’t be sick again. He needed to keep his mind off Draco and the heat of the spoon helped a little.

 

His thoughts drifted to Lilium and the risks everyone encountered outside the wards. No one went anywhere alone anymore; the school was getting ready for a siege, with the Elves overstocking everything from food to medical supplies. With the Fidelius in place, Voldemort wouldn’t be able to enter, but he could order his followers to surround the area. 

 

Harry was quite surprised when he finished his bowl without feeling nauseous after his introspection ended. It earned him a grin from Theo, and now that he had nothing left to do, he glanced at Draco once again and felt his eyes water.

 

His boyfriend looked so much paler than usual and so small in his bed. A large bandage was wrapped around his throat and went further down, protecting his wand arm and his lacerated torso. In a way, he was glad that his face had been spared, just because Draco would be so angry if he had to look in the mirror and find himself disfigured. 

 

The urge to hold him close was overwhelming. Theo’s hand grabbed his wrist to keep him grounded, which he was grateful for, and he tried to listen to his story about Kreacher’s allergic reaction to aubergines but couldn’t find it in himself to pay attention.

 

When the door opened, he recoiled violently.

 

“Snape?!” 

 

The dour man sneered. “Indeed, Mr Potter.” Flitwick followed close behind.

 

“Here to finish the job?” 

 

“Of course. My godson has been savagely attacked, but I must have another motive to be here. I suggest you learn to hold your tongue.”

 

Snape’s face softened as he took in Draco’s appearance, and Harry muttered an apology. He knew Snape was on their side, after what he did to help Narcissa. He noticed the Potions Master’s Muggle outfit, the exhaustion in his eyes, and wondered if he had been wrong about him. Did he come here by plane? He found out he’d blurted this aloud too late.

 

“I did indeed. Airports are an abomination.” Turning to Flitwick, he frowned. “We owe his survival to Lestrange?” A nod. “Very well. I shall bring his body back with me and bury him, if Albus allows me to use Fawkes for transportation.”

 

Harry bit his lower lip. “Does Snakeface know you’re here?”

 

The sneer grew. “Of course not, you idiot child. You may want to celebrate dear Bella’s demise, however. The Dark Lord was quite disappointed with her.”

 

She was dead? His eyes widened. It couldn’t be! “Why? Because she couldn’t kill me?”

 

“Because she tried. Really, didn’t Albus share the good news?”

 

None of the news coming from Voldemort lately had been positive, so Harry was confused, but not particularly surprised: now that he was regularly forced to share details he’d rather keep to himself, Dumbledore guarded any shred of information like a squirrel protecting its food. 

 

Snape pinched the bridge of his long nose. “You are no longer a target. The Dark Lord wants you safe. He will attempt to kidnap you, perhaps, but only to protect you. Do not ask me why.” He brushed a strand of hair away from Draco’s face, nodded at Theo, and left, Flitwick behind him. 

 

“Do you think he knows?” Theo said, bewildered, and Harry asked himself the same question. Did Voldemort find out about the Horcrux? What would that mean, if he started to look for them? He was suddenly unbelievably relieved that Aurors had been posted near Draco’s room. The Ministry took the threat seriously. Speaking of, he wondered what was going on with Alecto’s interrogation and what the consequences would be.

 

Draco’s Healer was next to enter, this time with Snape and Sirius, who, strangely, didn’t look like they were about to kill each other. “Boys, good afternoon. If you could step outside for a few minutes?”

 

It was tempting to be snarky, but the small confrontation with Snape had stolen his energy. Warily, the teens stood up. 

 

Theo led him out. They would attempt to wake him up again, for sure. Once they were in the corridor, Harry groaned and flat out refused to go for a walk. Instead, he sat on the floor and rested the back of his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

 

_Please, Draco, come back to me._

 

 

***

 

 

Draco was laying on a cloud. He felt warm, comfortable and loved, and he didn’t want to open his eyes. He was so tired after all. But magic kept trying to pull him out of his slumber, and when he decided to let it tug him forward, he always found himself in front of a wall that oozed some sort of dark sludge. Going back to bed seemed like the wisest move. That repulsive substance could not be healthy.

 

Sometimes, his sleep was interrupted by an itch, one that he knew should be painful but did not feel as such. He could smell the forest, and while he was alone, he also sensed invisible beings around him almost at all times. One of them was Harry.

 

He didn’t know how he recognised him. Perhaps he would wake up next time he felt him nearby. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad, if he was there to soothe him. Because no matter how long Draco stayed in his cloudy little fortress, he was aware that something terrible had happened, and he was scared to face it.

 

 

***

 

 

Harry tried to avoid Snape when he stormed out of Draco’s room after yet another failed attempt to wake him, to no avail. The man seemed even paler than Harry remembered when he stared at him until the teenager wished he had his invisibility cloak.

 

“Mr Potter. I hope I do not need to tell you not to leave your school anymore unless accompanied by an adult.”

 

Harry winced, quite grateful to stay blameless. In truth, everything had happened because of the Horcrux and he accepted Voldemort’s guilt in Draco’s current condition. In a way, he was proud of himself. Before his Mind Healing sessions, he'd have thought he was the reason for the attack.

 

His gaze met Snape’s.

 

“I won’t leave Draco alone at the Werewolves reserve on the full moon. Otherwise, I have no intention of making Snakeface’s plans easier.”

 

He saw a small twitch at the corner of his lips at the nickname, but Snape controlled his expression and didn’t show any other reaction. “I assume you must have followed your godfather’s insanity and became an Animagus.”

 

“I have. Draco is one too.”

 

This time, Snape frowned. “Very well. I grow tired of their weak spells that do not help my godson in the slightest. It is time for something far harsher. Come with me.”

 

Curious yet worried, Harry followed him back inside Draco’s room. Theo, who’d stayed sat on the floor the whole time, jumped to his feet and joined them without a word.

 

The Healer was still monitoring the unconscious boy and muttering to Flitwick. Sirius was staring at the sky through the window, like he did every day when nothing managed to bring his son back. Harry’s heart hurt at the sight. He wanted to hug him but knew he would have too much trouble letting go, so he stayed close to Snape and listened to his argument with the Healer. Snape wished to use Legilimency to bring Draco back. Harry, thanks to Voldemort’s brain, knew it could help immensely and understood the Healer’s reservations. But with both Draco’s adoptive father and his godfather agreeing on the plan (a miracle), there wasn’t much choice. 

 

The Healer decided to stay with them in case things turned sour. Theo stood behind Harry, silent and still as a rock, providing him with unwavering support that threatened to make his friend too emotional. If Harry started crying, he would have a truly hard time stopping. So, he steeled himself. Snape knew about his capacities. 

 

“Listen well, Mr Potter. One wrong move and he could be grievously injured.” Harry nodded. “I’ll break through his shields myself. He is keeping them up even in this state, which is encouraging. When I am done, I want you to slither through the opening and find him. I believe you can bring him back.”

 

The risks for Harry himself stayed between them. He could be stuck in Draco’s mind, or find an unexpected layer of defence that would reach into his own head and could lead to death. To Harry, it was rather obvious that Sirius hadn’t been informed of that particular detail. He may be an Occlumens himself, but the Head of the House of Black didn’t know much about Legilimency. 

 

“Mr Nott, I want you to ground Harry, do you know how?” 

 

The boy raised his chin. “Keep constant skin contact and pressure.” He grabbed Harry’s hand.

 

A few minutes later, the Potions Master cast _Legilimens_ and penetrated Draco’s mind. 

 

Harry closed his eyes and put himself in the same state he used to craft wands. He saw the pulse of Draco’s magic, the slight change in its pattern, the added scent that so few people had - it was a bit like Remus’ and reminded him of dark nights, but it had a warmth and sweetness that felt welcoming. Perhaps he could have slipped through without Snape.

 

As it was, he still waited until a clear path showed itself. It looked like a Ley Line, and he treated it as such.

 

His consciousness floated until it reached a stormy beach. Black sand, driftwood, greenish waves and dark skies made up Draco’s mindscape, and it looked beautiful. It should have felt quite lonely, yet it didn’t. Harry could imagine walking with his boyfriend along the edge of the water, hand in hand, and being perfectly content doing so. But as much as he liked this place, there was a cliff ahead with a dark cave that made him uneasy. It might be where Draco kept his painful memories, or where he retreated when he needed it. Harry decided to leave the beach, aware that he didn’t have long until Draco’s mind started rejecting his presence.

 

 

***

 

 

Draco felt the intrusion. The first one was familiar but unwelcome, it pushed against his shields too strongly and didn’t stop when he asked it to. Of course, it couldn’t hear him. However, after pushing so hard, it managed to shatter the oozing wall, so it couldn't be that bad. When the next intrusion happened, it took him completely by surprise. It was so different, so gentle. It felt like a caress… it felt like Harry’s arms around him. Could it be him?

 

Struggling against his hazy thoughts, he opened his eyes.

 

He wasn’t exactly where he believed he should be: in a bed, possibly at the hospital. He was in a cave. The porous rock let in a multitude of streams of light, allowing him to see around him quite well. He appreciated the softness of the sand and the lack of temperature. It was peaceful.

 

When Harry appeared, he first thought he was hallucinating. But his boyfriend hugged him and there was no way that sensation was a vision, not when it almost hurt. 

 

“Draco! Merlin, are you okay?” He peppered his face with kisses, and slowly, Draco felt more like himself.

 

“I- I think so. Where are we?”

 

He noticed that Harry’s eyes were filled with unshed tears, so he kissed him gently and ran his hands through his messy hair. Between kisses, he heard him explain that this was Draco’s own mind. Draco listened and smiled when he imagined his godfather and Harry working together. Then, he asked what happened.

 

“Greyback,” Harry answered.

 

Draco let out a loud gasp. Deep inside, though, he already knew something was different. He tried to imagine himself turning into a mindless, savage monster once a month and it only took a few seconds before he realised he was panicking. He followed Harry’s instructions to calm down but couldn’t stop shaking.

 

“Draco, listen to me.”

 

He blinked, the ringing in his ears losing its intensity. “Harry? What’s going to happen to me?”

 

“Nothing.” Harry forced him to look into his eyes, those mesmerising green irises that he loved so much. “Nothing,” he repeated, and Draco swallowed, finding his throat parched. “You’re in good hands. You’ll become a real wolf every full moon, and I’ll always be with you, okay?”

 

A real wolf? He didn’t understand. It must have shown on his face, because Harry told him about the hospital, the research, and what they had already learned back when Harry was making wands for the Norwegian Ministry Weres. At the time, Draco hadn’t paid as much attention as he should have, perhaps, but now that Harry mentioned it, he remembered why no one discriminated against these men and women here. They had no reason to. Their monthly transformation was painless, they were taken care of, and their heightened senses and strength were highly sought after. 

 

“What- what if I bite you?” he wondered, and suddenly flushed. “Not as a wolf, but- in bed?”

 

Harry chuckled and pressed their lips together once again. “You can’t turn me when it’s not the full moon. You know how much I love it when you-”

 

“Yes, well, perhaps you shouldn’t say such things when I feel my godfather’s presence in my head.” 

 

They looked at each other and burst into laughter. If this had been Harry’s plan to keep Draco’s mind off the severity of the situation, it worked, because Draco started thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so scary to wake up. Aware that he was the only one who could will himself to come back, he took a deep breath, laced his fingers with Harry’s and kissed his knuckles. “Alright, Potter. Bring me home.”

  

 

***

 

 

“He’s awake! Move!” 

 

Severus jumped aside and Theo barely managed to catch Harry before he collapsed. Sirius was by their side instantly and embraced both boys. Harry managed to stay awake. Shocked by the strength of the light in the room, he watched as Draco was offered water then checked over by the Healer. Sirius tried to send his Patronus to Narcissa, but he was too choked up to managed it, and Harry beat him to it.

 

As he cast it, he could only stare. 

 

It was no longer Prongs, the mighty stag, but Teeth. The weasel danced in the air, then vanished, carrying the good news to Draco’s mother. After everything they had been through, he thought it was fitting. He felt the strength of Sirius and Theo’s grasp on him decrease enough to allow him to slip away. Making sure that he would not bother any of the newly arrived Healers and Mediwitches, he stood guard by Draco’s head, and when his boyfriend felt well enough to look around and saw him, Harry gave him a wobbly, but wide smile. 

 

“Hi, Draco.”

 

“Hello again, Scarhead. You look like hell.” His voice was raspy, but it was the most beautiful sound Harry had ever heard.  

 


	22. Exposed

Things were different. They had to be, so Draco wasn’t exactly surprised, but he wished they weren’t. His father had made sure he wouldn’t stay at the hospital after waking up. The less time he spent away from Lilium, the better, even if the Aurors and Healers disapproved. So, here he was, still healing, still scared, requiring Dreamless Sleep and Harry’s arms around him at night to keep his nightmares at bay, but at least, he was safe.

 

The problem was that not everyone was thrilled about the presence of a Werewolf among them. Healer Crowfeet refused to treat his wounds and was thrown out of the school and Obliviated by Sirius and Narcissa, leaving Terence as Draco’s only option to minimise the scarring on his arm, torso and throat and prevent infections. While Terence was an excellent student, he was still only months into his apprenticeship, and if something serious happened to anyone, he wouldn’t be able to help much. His first experience alone was easy enough: he had to fix someone’s broken jaw.

 

That someone was Daphne, who’d surprised her friends with a vitriolic attack against “dangerous beasts” and ended up unconscious on the floor, unable to remember much aside from taking a Blasting Curse straight to the face. 

 

It barely took three days for Draco to gain enemies and allies within Lilium. Pansy, Theo and Harry were his strongest supporters. Daphne and Evander weren’t able to get over the anti-Werewolf propaganda they’d grown up with, and when asked what they thought about Remus, they just said they didn’t trust him but still believed he had more experience controlling his “savage urges”. The others were more or less neutral on the subject; Blaise acted like he didn’t care, but after sharing a dormitory with him for years, Draco was convinced he was on his side. From what he heard from Astoria, who had withdrawn completely as she felt too guilty to face anyone and had to be coaxed out of hiding by both Draco and Harry, Daphne would soon be leaving for Beauxbâtons.

 

When it came to the adults, in most cases, he knew they wouldn’t ostracise him. His mother had seemed afraid when he asked to hold his brothers right after coming back from the hospital, but she quickly got over it. It still hurt a little, but could he really blame her? If he hadn’t listened to the Werewolves employed by the Ministry, he would’ve had a very hard time accepting what happened.

 

Not that it had fully sunk in yet. He guessed it would, at the next full moon.

 

For now, he focused on healing.

 

The day after Crowfeet left, he woke up with a headache and went to the bathroom to drink some water. At the sight of his body in the mirror, he recoiled and clenched his fists. It was the first time he saw his wounds so clearly. The paste made by his godfather had eventually forced his oozing gashes to close and start forming scars. For the first time in a week, he’d been able to sleep without his bandages, and he could clearly see now, what would mark his body for the rest of his life.

 

He was glad he didn’t remember Greyback tearing up his throat. He’d been told his larynx had been rebuilt magically during his coma and the thought made him wince. Further down, the right side of his upper torso had been mangled, his right arm so damaged he could barely see a hint of unmarred skin anymore. It hit him suddenly, and he found himself crying on the floor.

 

He could still feel the pain and he was so scared of his memories and his future, that he just couldn’t stop shaking. He felt the coldness of the tiles against his skin, and it seemed like it was the only thing that prevented him from losing his mind.  

 

But then, warm arms wrapped around his waist, burning lips kissed his neck, and Harry’s voice whispered encouragements in his ears until he surfaced from his dark thoughts. Draco turned around and buried his face against his boyfriend’s stomach. He thought about Harry's Patronus, how it had changed and now represented him.

 

His breathing slowed down. He relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of Harry’s fingers in his hair. “Sorry.”

 

Harry kissed his head. “Why?”

 

“For waking you up. For freaking out. It’s stupid.” 

 

“It’s not, and I don’t care if you need to wake me twenty times, okay?”

 

Draco nodded but didn’t look at him. “You’re not disgusted? My scars are horrible.”

 

“I don’t care. You’re beautiful, and you’re mine.”

 

Warmth bloomed in his veins. How did he ever get so lucky? Why did someone as wonderful as Harry exist? At that moment, he spared a thought for Lily Potter, thanking her for saving her baby’s life. Harry helped him up, and they started their morning routine, which Draco found strangely soothing because it was _ normal _ , it felt like  _ before _ , and it didn’t require thinking. 

 

Before leaving the room, he hugged his cat, who then followed them downstairs. Draco had no idea what time it was since it was pitch black outside most of the time now, but he gathered it was early when they entered the dining room and didn’t find their classmates there. Draco hurried at his mom’s side and took the first available baby in his arms. 

 

“You’re getting so big!”

 

Cepheus squealed, gave a toothless grin and patted Draco’s cheeks, before uttering a sound he’d never said before: Day. 

 

Draco’s eyes widened. “Was that his first word? My  _ name _ ? Isn’t it too early?”

 

Not to be undone, Hydrus scrunched up his little face. “DAY!”

 

“And his?” he asked, eyes widening.

 

Sirius laughed, his arm around Harry’s shoulders and Narcissa’s tired expression lightened up considerably. “It certainly seems so.”

 

“Shouldn’t it be something like Ma?”

 

“Your first word was Hoo, and it was addressed to an owl. It’s almost a family tradition. It is a little early indeed, but I imagine babbling to each other has helped in that regard.”

 

He was a bit overwhelmed but still made sure to coo over both boys equally. He was so proud! 

 

Yes, things were different here, but perhaps he could still be happy.

 

 

***

 

 

_ Britain, Ministry of Magic _

  
  


Vitaly Gnedykh came to England to save the students of Hogwarts from Umbridge’s reign, more than anything. So, when he received news that Alecto Carrow had been arrested in Norway, interrogated under a combination of Veritaserum, Vows and Legilimency, and revealed Voldemort’s continued existence, he was almost giddy with glee. His co-representatives seemed more worried; after all, out of every ICW country, not many had listened to Albus and Amelia’s warnings, or if they had, they’d refused to risk a diplomatic incident. Now, though? He could only imagine the mess, especially among Europeans members of the ICW, who were directly threatened. There was no way Voldemort would only conquer the United Kingdom.

 

The Supreme Mugwump sent an urgent missive to the group, knowing they would be the ones responsible for revealing the truth to Fudge. It contained information about the preventive measures imposed on the Ministries that would fight against the Dark Lord if needed. Vitaly was relieved to see Dark Mark detection spells on the list, ones he had already used at Hogwarts: they were preparing for war. Thanks to international cooperation, an operation was underway at the school, using the data he’d gathered to make arrests before tipping off Voldemort and his supporters. There were too many of them within Hogwarts to take unnecessary risks. 

 

And today, Britain would have to face the fact that their Minister was a rotten liar.

 

Apparently, it delighted every representative present. None of them could stand the man. The Japanese envoy promised to buy them all a drink after the Wizengamot session.

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Vitaly told the grinning woman who had graduated with honours from Mahoutokoro five years prior.

 

The Brazilian representative sighed and glanced at the massive doors leading to the Wizengamot chambers. “Feels like I need something strong just to look at Fudge today.” 

 

“Calming Draught?” The woman from Iran batted her eyelashes innocently and grinned widely. 

 

“Nah. Draught of the Living Death.”

 

They shared a laugh and got ready to enter the room after hearing the telltale knocks announcing the start of the session. Led by Camilla Nordrum once more, they all schooled their features into expressionless masks.

 

They were introduced to the audience again, more for the benefit of the press this time, and Vitaly eventually took charge.

 

 “Before we start, I would like to ask who, among you, cannot cast a Patronus?”

 

Only two hands went up, but Vitaly believed the others were ashamed.

 

“Very good. Now, I want one, or both of you, to think about your happiest memory. It can be a feeling or a dream, it doesn’t need to have happened, but it cannot be hiding sadness or negative emotions. Don’t think of a lost love who made you happy if you still mourn the relationship. Now, I’ll explain the wand movements and I want you to commit the incantation to memory:  _ Expecto Patronum _ . Did you understand it all?”

 

Under heavy frowns and barely masked disapproval, he then asked them to repeat what he’d said, making sure they fully understood the theory. Then, he asked them to cast.

 

When they failed, he smiled benignly at Fudge.

 

“Now, I’m sure no one would dare question Lord Abbott and Lady Selwyn’s power and intelligence. Yet, they cannot cast a Patronus. Do you actually believe that a child who has been taught nothing but theory will do better? Do you believe that those who will attempt to work for St Mungo or the Aurors, hell, who will Charm the supplies you buy, the brooms you fly, the clothes you wear and the toys your children play with, will ever be able to gain employment or an apprenticeship? Imagine it, if you please. Would you, Auror Robards, accept someone in the corps if they are unable to Disarm anyone?”

 

At the Auror’s frown, he knew that the man highly disapproved of the changes to Hogwarts. He was in the room to ensure no one would attack the representatives and seemed astonished at being addressed directly. 

 

“Does the Auror Department have the budget, personnel and time to dedicate to teach practical magic to their recruits? We are not talking about specialised spells here, but First through Seventh Year material.”

 

Robards opened his mouth but was interrupted by Fudge. “They would not be accepted without a NEWT in Defense, of course!” 

 

“But the Defense NEWT is half-practical, Minister. No one will get more than an Acceptable.” He felt vindicated by the numerous nods this statement gained. “This is a moot point, my Lords and Ladies, Minister, Aurors. The curriculum imposed by your Ministry has been found severely lacking.” Gasps and outraged whispers broke out, and Vitaly had to speak louder. “This means that any OWL or NEWT earned through Hogwarts from this year on will not be recognised by the ICW.”

 

“We don’t need recognition!”

 

Camilla stepped forward. “But you do, Minister. To start with, due to the changes you forced on Hogwarts, the school is no longer an institute of magic. It will be removed from the ICW records and will be cut off from international funding. Your students will not be able to find work outside of Britain unless they pass their exams through us.”

 

“How dare you!”

 

At that moment, the resemblance between Fudge and his faithful Toad was uncanny. They both had a tendency to turn dark red, puff indignantly, and, best of all, their cheeks would shake uncontrollably.

 

“Of course, should you reverse the changes, we will be more than happy to reconsider. However, we have found numerous causes for concern within Hogwarts, and with the approval of the ICW and the International Auror Program, we intend to fix them. Two of your lackeys have been abusing students physically and mentally.”

 

Once again, the noise level had to be controlled, and it was with a smirk that Camilla Nordrum spoke:

 

“We know how much you love hiding your head in the sand, Minister, but unless you are truly as stupid as I believe you to be, you will know that Lord Voldemort has returned.”

 

“POPPYCOCK!”

 

“The Scandinavian Ministry has declared war against him. If you do not follow, Minister, you will be considered guilty of sanctioning a terrorist group and will be dealt with. Professor Parkinson, along with twenty-eight Sixth and Seventh Year students, are Marked and active Death Eaters. By the time I finish speaking, they’ll be removed from Hogwarts and questioned. We did not want to meddle in your country, sir, but you have forced our hand, and we have the approval of the British Prime Minister and the Queen herself.”

 

“They have no jurisdiction over us!” someone claimed, and Vitaly snorted.

 

“You may want to revisit that statement. You are still a British citizen. While the Prime Minister lets you deal with your affairs in private, he was not happy to discover exactly what was going on right under his nose. As much as you wish it were true, Wizarding Britain is not an independent nation. Furthermore, your country is part of the ICW, giving us the right to intervene in specific situations. As of now, you can either declare war and let us fight with you, or you can bury yourself even deeper and ignore the truth, in which case we wish you good luck, and urge anyone to leave the United Kingdom. Oh, you may want to check people’s forearms before allowing them to work for you or occupy a Wizengamot seat. The Dark Mark can only be taken willingly.”

 

“That- that is preposterous! So many have taken it under the Imperius-”

 

Vitaly fought against the urge to roll his eyes. “Are you an expert on the Dark Arts, Minister? Because I am, and I am telling you, you have been lied to, have accepted bribes and excuses that anyone with the slightest education in Blood and Ritual Magic could have warned you about. On the other hand, you have taken liberties that will surely earn you a stay in Azkaban yourself, after the Prime Minister is done with you. Execution of a man on school grounds? Without allowing him any legal representation? Order to execute Sirius Black on sight, when it turns out he was thrown in prison without being convicted? You know it’s true, don’t you?”

 

This time, the noise was even louder in the gallery, and it was with a deep sense of accomplishment that the ICW delegation finally left the chamber. Their job was done. 

 

 

***

 

 

_ Malfoy Manor _

 

 

“My Lord, your return has been announced.” Lord Yaxley braced himself, but the Cruciatus didn’t hit him. He knew his Lord was absolutely furious, but perhaps he would refrain from cursing his followers so often, now that he had lost many of his best fighters? Yaxley would never miss Bellatrix, the nasty creature, but the rate of loss within the Inner Circle had been rather worrying.

 

“That is unexpected. Alecto decided to babble, then. How rude.” The red glint in his eyes was even more malevolent than usual. “I fear we need to reconsider our plans.”

 

“If I may, all is not lost. The Ministry is sufficiently infiltrated to make our move, but we do need to hurry before they implement their Dark Mark detection measures.”

 

The Dark Lord smirked. “Of course. How about Azkaban?”

 

“Completely under control, awaiting orders.”

 

“You’ve done well, Yaxley. Don’t forget: the Dementors are your responsibility. No one must know about them.”

 

Yaxley bowed and joined his masked cohort. Cancelling the Silencing Charm that kept them both in a private bubble in the middle of a meeting, the Dark Lord faced his numerous followers, twirling his wand between his fingers, slowly gliding on the dais. 

 

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, the wait is over. Tonight, we come out of the shadows. You, my faithful Death Eaters, will be assigned targets, while we overthrow the Ministry. We will overwhelm the Aurors and hit several places at once. You may kill and torture to your heart’s desires.”

 

“My Lord, what about the Potter boy? And the baby you were looking for?” asked a brave soul, making Yaxley wince in sympathy as the Cruciatus, this time, wasn’t forgotten. The man crumbled to the floor with a shrill scream. 

 

Hissing at Nagini, the Dark Lord gathered his magic, creating a foul aura of power and darkness around him. “I will not repeat it. Potter is mine. Leave him alone. I know where the child is; he will be reunited with his true family soon enough. Doubt me again, and you will be reminded of curses far worse than the Cruciatus.”

 

 

***

 

 

_ Mate, _

 

_ You won’t believe what just happened. Or maybe you will if your Dark Arts teacher is back. Anyway, we can finally write to each other again! No more Toad to read everything! Guess I ought to start at the beginning. _

 

_ On Friday, the ICW forced the Ministry to recognise You-Know-Who’s return. I think Fudge tried to dismiss it again but the press was there and let me tell you, Skeeter was on fire. The bad news is that You-Know-Who is pissed off and the war has officially started. Not sure if he took over the Ministry, but Dad already left, just in case. Otherwise, there were attacks everywhere. It’s Hogsmeade weekend now and I think a lot of students didn’t take the threat seriously because they still went. So, the Defense Club decided to be there too, undercover, just in case. Nothing happened but it’s bloody scary. _

 

_ So, that’s the war part.  _

 

_ The Prophet is running tons of stories now. You’re the misunderstood, persecuted Saviour - they all count on you, you’re the Chosen One. I almost want to write to them and tell them there’s no way you’ll move a finger to save their arses after how they treated you. Sirius is exonerated. They’re trying to get you back home.  _

 

_ School is good, because Runcorn has been arrested, and Umbridge is dead. Well, officially she vanished, but Hogwarts is kind of alive and finally had enough. I had detention and all I found was her pink cardigan. The wall looked weird, it had a bump. I think Hogwarts ate her. Or Dobby did something. He looked awfully smug. _

 

_ Not sure what happened to the Board of Governors but Dumbledore is reinstated. If he comes back he can be Headmaster again. Flitwick has his job back too if he wants it. The Goblins are happy about that and they said they’ll look into releasing the vaults they blocked. Goblin rebellion avoided! _

 

_ Speaking of teachers, after the ICW audited every class, they’re getting rid of Binns and Trelawney. And Filch, because he’s an abusive bastard. We’re keeping the Defense Club but we’re going back to class now.  _

 

_ Our resident baby Death Eaters tried to organise themselves and stage some sort of coup (look at me using a French word, Hermione would be so proud) but they did it too late! With the anti-Dark Mark spells on the castle, they were found out. They’re gone for now. Professor Parkinson too. Snape got thrown into the lake by the wards before McGonagall adjusted them, now he’s back since Hogwarts knows he helped us. I don’t mind him anymore. He taught us too well, down in the Chamber. We actually have a chance of survival now.  _

 

_ That’s a lot of people who left though. Sadly Smith wasn’t part of them. He’s a huge prick. He loved being in the Inquisitorial Squad and he didn’t realise it’s over, he’s still trying to make us bow to his mighty presence. Seriously, he’s like Malfoy. The bad version of him. But at least Malfoy has class and style. And he’s smart. Smith is just ridiculous. _

 

_ Urg, now I bet you’re going to tell your boyfriend I said all that. Ginny is reading behind my shoulder and she’ll never let me live this down. _

 

_ Okay. Prat number 2 is McLaggen. We got our Quidditch teams back but we needed another Chaser and he was the only one who didn’t suck too much, but I think Ginny will probably kill him if I don’t do it first. Prat number 3, Percy, or rather, Professor Weasley (and bollocks, mate, he’s actually a good teacher) is taking over Defense part-time with Snape, cause he still has Charms for now. He caught Cormac trying to hex Gin behind her back and turned him into a cactus. That makes him a redeemed prat. Or a prat on the way to redemption. Mum would be so happy. _

 

_ This letter is way too long. Heard You-Know-Who was found out because a Death Eater was caught abroad, so I hope they weren’t looking for you or something. _

 

_ I’ll see you soon, maybe, and write back!  _

 

_ R. _

 

_ P.S: tell Teeth he’d better be taking care of you! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's ART for this fic and you should definitely take a look! [Draco and Harry being cute by Sirene312](https://penguinanimagus.tumblr.com/post/186283994078/sirene312-aaww-yiss-i-finished-a-piece-i-spend)


	23. War

Neville, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Lavender and the Patil twins walked out of the Three Broomsticks, full of butterbeer. On the other side of the path, Ernie and Michael waved at them, and when Tracey passed by, her head almost entirely hidden under her Slytherin scarf, she poked Neville’s arm playfully before disappearing inside the inn. Ginny couldn’t stop smirking at the blush of her friend’s face. The Defence Club brought down barriers, not only between students but also between them and Snape. Gone was the man who gave Neville nightmares. He had been helpful and taught them well, down in the Chamber. While he was still caustic in Potions, he didn’t bully anyone anymore.

 

Neville, on the other hand, was now a confident young man. No wonder he’d attracted Tracey’s attention. 

 

Ginny wondered if they would finally act on it, now that the Toad and her ridiculous rules were gone. While thinking about it, she made a mental list of the shops she needed to visit - Scrivenshaft’s was her priority, and she hoped her meagre savings would allow her to purchase new stationery. She counted on Ron to buy snacks and share them, so that would be taken care of already.

 

She looked around. “Anyone needs new quills?”

 

“Nope, but I wouldn’t mind going to Spintwitches,” Lavender said.

 

She blinked and tried not to appear too surprised, but Ron’s legendary lack of tact made him blurt out exactly what she was thinking: “Why? You hate Quidditch!”

 

Lavender smiled. “Yes, but Greg loves it, and it’s Christmas soon.”

 

Ginny’s smirk grew. “Still lovey-dovey, huh?”

 

“I’ll have you know that Greg is an absolute sweetheart! He’s all alone in Ilvermorny and misses me terribly.”

 

Dean and Seamus had taken bets on how long that relationship would last. They’d gotten it all wrong. Lavender wasn’t as superficial as they’d all thought, and Gregory Goyle seemed decent enough. Things would be much easier for them now that they could exchange letters again.

 

Ron volunteered to accompany the infatuated Gryffindor, and in the end, Ginny and Padma were left to their own devices in the street, heading towards Scrivenshaft’s together. The Ravenclaw shivered. 

 

“Your lips are almost blue,” Ginny noticed with a frown. It was particularly cold today. The wind was relentless and seeped through their clothing. “Need a Charm?”

 

“Warming Charms are stupid.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“They make you think it’s not cold. Your brain believes it, you get careless, and in the end, you get sick. Or maybe it’s just me.”

 

_ Yep, it’s just you. _ Ginny never had any trouble with cold weather and while she wasn’t a Ravenclaw, she was quite certain that this category of spells didn’t trick the brain into anything but provided genuine protection against the element. Sometimes, Ravenclaws overthought everything.

 

But when the Charm she’d applied on her clothing failed, the redhead stopped walking and bit her lower lip in confusion. She cast it again, to no avail. She was freezing.

 

Padma’s hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

They looked at each other, and Padma’s eyes strayed to the side, before widening in horror. Someone screamed.

 

Ginny turned around and her breath caught in her throat. There was a black cloud falling on Hogsmeade, like a thick, sinister fog rolling down a mountainside, but it wasn’t fog at all. Ginny and Padma cast their Patronus at the same time. 

 

People started to run away from the cloud of Dementors. There were so many of them! It was chaos, everyone ran around in a panic, trying to escape. Adults attempted to Apparate away and failed.

 

“Anti-Disapparition wards,” Padma whispered. Despite her obvious fear, her voice was steady. 

 

A few seconds later, Ginny spotted her brother’s Patronus, soon joined by Luna’s, Neville’s, Lavender’s and Parvati’s, but it wasn’t enough! What were the other members of the Defence Club doing? The girls exchanged another glance and without a word, chose to head towards Honeydukes. 

 

The crowd in front of the shop was insane. Ginny heard children crying, shouting, everyone was pushing as if they would be safer inside. She turned around, startled when their friends eventually reached them. Neville looked sick, and still, the wave of darkness progressed further, trapping them all. 

 

Ron’s jaw was clenched tightly. “We need to get everyone out of there. Use  _ Sonorus _ , hex people if they don’t want to listen. Neville, Parvati, bring people to the Shrieking Shack. Gin, Padma, use the tunnels under Honeydukes. Luna, Lavender, get to the Hog’s Head, Aberforth should have another way into the castle. I’ll find the other members of the club.”

 

Ginny nodded grimly. Soon, she and Padma were on their own again. Their Patronus caught the attention of the less hysterical kids in the street. Those who could find the strength to cast it and knew how joined their magic to theirs and produced their own shining guardian. Fighting against the despair that tried to dig into her very bones, Ginny managed to ignore the strangled cries of those who were now being swallowed by the evil swarm. It was too close. With the calming light of their spells, the crowd’s panic lessened enough to listen when she pointed her wand at her neck and cast the voice-enhancing spell. 

 

“Listen up! If you keep trampling on each other, you’ll all die! We don’t have time to panic! Now line up, calmly. Anyone who tries to push will be neutralised and left behind! Follow Padma.” She noticed that the semi-organised line was too long. “Hey! At the back! Run to the Hog’s Head or you won’t make it!” They hesitated before a Seventh Year Slytherin took over and guided a good portion of them away.

 

They were close. So close. Another Patronus, this time barely visible. Ginny was exhausted. She sent a Bat-Bogey hex to a Seventh Year Gryffindor who attempted to push past a group of Third Year students, marched up to him and punched him. “Wait your turn you fucking coward!” 

 

She ignored the creative insults he came up with, but when he tried again and knocked out a small child, she snarled. “ _ Petrificus Totalus _ !”

 

He fell on the muddy path. She helped the child up. It wasn’t a student; probably a shopkeeper’s kid. He looked about three or four years old and was crying, his face scratched up. Ginny picked him up.

 

“We’re going to Hogwarts, okay? We’ll find your parents later. Come on.” She spotted Seamus inside the shop. “Finnegan! Get your ass over here!”

 

The Irish boy stared at the toddler who was now wailing in terror and pain. There was no need for words. “I’ll take him.” He vanished in the crowd again. 

 

The line was thinning. The streets were almost empty. Ginny lost track of time. 

 

When the cold became unbearable and the first Dementor reached her, she cancelled the spell on the Gryffindor so he could get to safety, but the boy was too angry at her. Instead of running, he spat at her feet. “You think you’re so special, Weasley. You’re just a whiny little bitch, aren’t you?” 

 

She was fast, but not enough, and he pushed her against a wall, his forearm pressed against her throat, choking her. 

 

She tried non-verbal spells. She tried kicking him. 

 

Then, she remembered Snape’s rants about relying on magic too much and dying because of it. Her vision was already fading, but with all her strength, she freed her arm and stuck her wand straight through the boy’s eye socket.

 

She fell to her knees when he let go. The Dementor was right in front of her. Yet it only looked at the boy who hadn’t made a sound, who was probably already dead, but who still had a soul for the next few seconds. Ginny didn’t stay to watch. 

 

When she exited the tunnel after a desperate escape, she fainted. 

 

 

***

 

 

**_DEMENTORS IN HOGSMEADE! FORTY-ONE DEAD!_ **

**_You-Know-Who is killing our children_ **

 

 

Tonks wanted to rip the Daily Prophet out of Molly’s hands and stomp on it. It wouldn’t do any good. The Weasley matriarch looked devastated and the mood around the table in the Muggle office the Order used was sombre. Dumbledore, finally back in the country, was lacking his usual twinkle and Snape’s expression was positively venomous.

 

Tonks shared her feelings of helplessness with Mad-Eye and Shacklebolt. They should have been there. They should have known the first Hogsmeade weekend after You-Know-Who’s official return would be a perfect time to attack. The Dark Lord was furious, and an angry Voldemort wasn’t exactly rational, from what she’d learnt about the first war. 

 

There was a parchment on the table, next to the phone, that she didn’t want to look at. It was a list. She shuddered and tightened her hold on Remus’ hand, her hair cycling between magenta and black, because she was scared, seething, and because she felt the crushing weight of her little secret on her shoulders.

 

She and Remus had been careless. She hadn’t told him yet, and she didn’t know what to do. Could she be selfish enough to give life to a child when the situation was so dire? When she hadn’t been able to protect the children of Hogwarts? 

 

Her name was mentioned, and she realised she had just missed a part of the meeting. Thankfully, no one was addressing her, only mentioning her as part of the Auror forces who could have been alerted, but weren’t.

 

“The Dark Lord had a year and a half to infiltrate the Ministry. He crippled it.”

 

Alastor sent a nasty glare at Snape. “What I want to know is why we didn’t know. I don’t trust you, Snape!”

 

“I believe having to visit my godson at the hospital was a good reason to be away from the Dark Lord.”

 

It was like a bucket of icy water had just been dropped on her head. Since Andromeda was now reacquainted with Narcissa, and both her husband and daughter adored Draco, they’d been told about the incident, and each time she thought about it, the Metamorphmagus felt the need to break something. Her cousin didn’t deserve that. She planned on visiting Lilium in a few days, taking Remus with her. The reminder was quite unwelcome, especially because she now realised most of the Order had no idea what happened. 

 

Snape’s distaste for the topic matched hers.

 

Mad-Eye pointed his crooked index finger at him. “You should revisit your priorities. People died because of you! Children lost their soul!”

 

“And my godson was mauled by Greyback.”

 

A sharp intake of breath came from Molly, and Tonks had enough. Before Dumbledore could defuse the situation with his usual claim that Severus had his complete trust, she stood up and glared at her mentor. “The only one to blame for what happened is Voldemort.”

 

“Well said,” Molly added, her head held high. “Without Severus, many more lives would have been lost. He taught our children to fight, to analyse their surroundings, to  _ survive _ . All this time, he helped them understand real combat. Most of the kids in Hogsmeade were able to cast a Patronus. Don’t you dare blame this on him, Alastor, or so help me Merlin, I’ll show you why my children are so good at hexes!”

 

Tonks wanted to hug her. She really did. Which was strange, because Molly usually annoyed her. Properly chastised but still fuming, the retired Auror shut up. 

 

“We will achieve nothing by blaming each other.” Shacklebolt rose from his seat, and Tonks sat back down. “Let’s review what we know.”

 

Dumbledore nodded and readjusted his glasses on his nose. It was obvious that the old man wished he’d been back at Hogwarts when the attack came. Voldemort probably decided to make his move in his absence, and when the former Headmaster eventually made it back to England, he was faced with the terrible news. It couldn’t have been easy. “Half of the names on this list were residents and shopkeepers of Hogsmeade, but we lost eighteen students yesterday. Fifteen were Kissed, two were trampled by the crowd, and one was killed. Ginevra Weasley offered her memories of the whole incident; she defended everyone admirably and had no choice but to take a life in the end. I believe it would be good for her and Ronald to go home early for Christmas.”

 

Arthur and Molly nodded. There was a fierce pride in their eyes. 

 

“I would also like to introduce Gemma Farley to the Order. She is currently dealing with the Lestrange Will, and she should join us for our next meeting.”

 

“She’s the girl Rabastan named as Heiress,” Sirius explained through the phone. 

 

“Do we really want someone associated with that family in the Order?” Hestia Jones asked.

 

Tonks rolled her eyes, huffed, and crossed her arms on her chest. “She doesn’t know any of them. She’s a former Head Girl, a few years below me. We already discussed what happened when she took the Lestrange seat, can we let this go? Let’s not forget that Rabastan saved my cousin’s life and betrayed his Master recently.”

 

Honestly, how did the Order ever get things done with all their bickering?

 

“Indeed.” The twinkle was back in full force. “She is offering Lestrange Manor and their holiday homes as safe-houses. They are all under Fidelius and she is the Secret Keeper. More importantly, they possess Dementor-repelling wards, and you all know how vital this is now. Only the oldest families have such ancient protections still in place, and with the strike at Gringotts, no one could currently afford to place these wards elsewhere. This gives us Hogwarts, the Black, Potter, Lestrange, Bones and Greengrass properties. We need to start moving families where we can.”

 

Sirius was asked to open his properties and Harry’s but was reluctant to come back to England right now. Tonks volunteered to look after Draco and the Boy-Who-Lived, so he ended up agreeing, but made it clear that he wouldn’t stay for more than a few days. 

 

Mundungus coughed, bringing attention to himself. “Moving people is great, but what about the Dementors? You said there was a way to get rid of them. Let’s do it.”

 

“It’s not that easy,” Sirius said. “It would put a fourteen-year-old in great danger.”

 

“If we must, we’ll do it, for the Greater-”

 

“I swear to Merlin, Albus, if you finish that sentence, next time you visit Lilium, I’ll eviscerate you. Change the subject. What’s happening with the Ministry?”

 

Tonks was getting used to seeing Dumbledore’s frustration on his face because his mouth always twisted like he’d bitten into something sour, but it still amused her. Kingsley and Amelia presented their progress, and they truly deserved some recognition for their efforts:

 

During the Wizengamot meeting that revealed Voldemort’s return, the Order members who worked at the Ministry were taking advantage of the distraction: they stole thousands of files from every department, anything that contained someone’s blood status or extended family ties. They sabotaged the tracking devices used by the DMLE and even tried to put up detection spells for the Dark Mark, but this part of the plan failed. Amelia confirmed that Ministries all over Europe had managed to install them, however, and were already purging their employees. The Muggle government was aware of what was going on and taking discrete measures that no one but them was privy to - Tonks did hope they wouldn’t need to intervene because she feared they would simply destroy the Wizarding World to protect themselves.

 

The Scandinavian Ministry would start providing emergency Portkeys. They were currently mass-produced and would be given to those at risk in the countries they represented, but also in the United Kingdom. Since they were issued abroad, they wouldn’t register with the British Ministry. Every movement outside of Britain would be tracked, every entry into another country registered, every magical signature recorded. As International Portkeys had specific entry points, guards would be posted there, ready to strike at anyone bearing the Mark. It would be challenging for a Death Eater to find their way out of the country.

 

It could also be used against regular citizens or Order members if Voldemort hadn’t Marked each of his followers. Foreign Ministries could still fall, and it wouldn’t do to get too confident, Tonks thought bitterly. 

 

The positive declarations of the evening didn’t eclipse the tragedy of Hogsmeade, and the meeting ended in fear.

  
  


 

***

 

 

_ Ron, _

 

_ I heard what happened in Hogsmeade. Are you alright? I don’t know what to think. T. and Moony just arrived, they told us who died and it just doesn’t feel real. I didn’t really know any of them, I guess, and I feel like I should at least recognise their names, you know? Or know what House they were in. Of course, I remember Duncan because he was a Beater for Ravenclaw, but I shouldn’t just know those who played Quidditch, right?  _

 

_ I understand they’re withholding the name of the Gryffindor who attacked your sister, but I have some suspicions, and I can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Well, not the Kiss, but the wand in the eye. Was he Marked? I was told the Marked students had been removed from school but maybe they forgot one. Well, not every supporter has the Mark. So, it could be Wednesbury. Or McLaggen, but even if he’s an arse, I’m having trouble thinking he could be so selfish. _

 

_ I also heard Fudge tried to get you all in trouble for Underage Magic and violation of his stupid new law, but with the Ministry in shambles, he couldn’t get anywhere and was actually forced to resign?! Good riddance. Though I bet the next Minister will be firmly in Snakeface’s pocket. Bugger. _

 

_ Teeth is healing if you were interested. It’s difficult for him. Some people are too scared of Werewolves to act decently, so… well, he’ll always have me.  _

 

_ We can’t get out anymore, we have to stay within the wards and they have been reduced. The brand new Quidditch pitch is still within their boundaries though, thank Merlin, or I think Katie would have killed someone.  _

 

_ Some people are blaming themselves for everything. How do you reassure someone who believes they’re the reason Snakeface found us? I’m not sure what to do. _

 

_ Padfoot is going back to Britain with his boyfriend. I’m not telling you who that is, I’m sure you’ll find out soon, and I want to see a Pensieve memory of your face when that happens.  _

 

_ Hopefully, we’ll see each other soon.  _

 

_ Harry _

 

_ P.S: It’s not like Umbridge can still check your mail so I’m using your name again. _


	24. Planning

“We need to cut off Voldy’s access to the other world or get rid of him.”

 

Draco chewed on his lower lip and tried to relax in Harry’s embrace, but he couldn’t. He wanted to protest his boyfriend’s involvement, but it wouldn’t do any good, would it? They did need to do something, and aside from Harry and Astoria, no one would be able to help. The eyes of the youngest Greengrass girl were haunted. Draco was used to seeing her with a strangely vacant expression, but now that she’d brought death to their door, her detachment was unsettling. Her pet Lethifold never left her side.

 

He understood her, though. Harry, in his usual Gryffindorish manners, included her in their evenings by the fire, studied with her, and spent time with her when she didn’t mind it. Tonight, the entire group of teens had watched Casper and they were now hanging out, snacking on small savoury pastries Theo had prepared (and bugger, he was becoming an excellent cook). It would have been easy to forget that they were now stuck here. No more Lasertag in Tromso, no more visit to Oslo or shopping trips to the town. No more Mind Healers. Even the seaside was out of reach, not that any of them would want to go there in winter. 

 

Draco would join the Werewolves in their sanctuary once a month and would be safe enough there, but still, having their location compromised could easily become a nightmare. Their only true way out was their emergency Portkeys, which Blaise already planned to use for his annual visit to Italy. Hopefully, he did the smart thing and stayed there. Knowing Isabella Zabini, there was a high chance that she wouldn’t let him go back to Norway.

 

Even if they made it so the Dark Lord couldn’t travel to their location, it wouldn’t change the fact that he already knew where they lived, which was why Flitwick had decided to stay and protect them. Professor Gnedykh was depleting his magic and life-force with rituals every single night: there was no way any Death Eater could breach the wards. They were safe, just prisoners. 

 

While Harry was massaging his scalp and discussing Ley Lines with Astoria, Draco started thinking about Frank the Conjured Cloud, still hanging in the sky above the fjord, still stubbornly refusing to disappear. What if he could use it? All he’d tried so far was to banish it somewhere. But… it was a cloud, and Weather Magic might allow him to use it as a weapon. 

 

Harry kissed the back of his right ear and Draco nearly moaned out loud. Thoroughly distracted, he narrowed his eyes and glared at his boyfriend. Harry knew his body rather well by now and could easily reduce him to a quivering, panting mess - not that he minded it, really, but the green-eyed boy seemed to use this knowledge against him when his mind wandered. 

 

“I don’t know where you were right now, but Susie was talking to you.”

 

Glancing at the redhead (who was wrapped in Terence’s arms, and since when had they decided to get back together?), he apologised. She shook her head with a smirk. “I was just asking if you still had that book on warding.”

 

He remembered a thick, ancient book found in the Black Vaults and nodded. “It’s in my room. Why?”

 

“Professor Flitwick will need help with security. I’d like to learn.”

 

That made sense. He’d let her borrow it. She thanked him and resumed her cuddling, but Draco’s thoughts were already lost, even with Harry’s gentle massage on his scalp. Looking at Terence had just reminded him that they had no one around to heal any of them if they needed urgent care. His mother knew about as much as the apprentice and Flitwick and Gnedykh could mend benign wounds or stop curses from progressing, but reversing their damage? That was a completely different thing. What if the Death Eaters did manage to send something through the wards? Wild animals?  _ Werewolves _ under Imperius? What if the Fidelius somehow turned against them? 

 

Draco was well-read. He liked books almost as much as Granger did, and he loved History. He also had a rather good memory, which right now, bugged him about three particular instances that, back when he was a child, had given him nightmares.

 

1192, 1650, 1872. Three instances, in Britain alone, where extremely powerful spells turned deadly on those they were protecting because layering so many of them sometimes caused unexpected reactions. The ones in 1872 had killed off an entire branch of the Malfoy family tree when they closed in on them. No one had ever managed to find out why.

 

This time, it was Pansy who spoke to him. “Draco? Are you okay?”

 

He coughed and shook himself before Harry could do something that might make him react embarrassingly in front of all their friends. “Just thought about something, sorry.”

 

Pansy readjusted her (very short) skirt and sat next to him. Harry’s hands tightened slightly in Draco’s hair, and Draco grinned at that. Harry didn’t enjoy people getting too close to them when they were relaxing together. It made him feel special. He loved it when his boyfriend’s possessiveness manifested itself so visibly.

 

The Slytherin girl rolled her eyes. “Calm down, lover boy, I’m sure Draco’s cock is magnificent, but I like tits better.”

 

Theo laughed so hard he lost his grip on his triangle sandwich and had to scramble to pick up all the pieces off the floor before Perseus could steal them. Harry sputtered indignantly and Draco’s face started to burn, but he still managed to keep a haughty expression. 

 

“So,” Pansy kept going. “What did you freak out about?”

 

Draco debated the pros and cons of revealing his fears to everyone around him. They felt safe here. Protected. Lestrange had destroyed every Horcrux Dumbledore had hidden within these walls and the Lethifold was on their side. But what if this made them complacent again?

 

Lilium was their sanctuary. They might be about to lose it.

 

He decided to tell them the truth. Harry and Astoria could concentrate on that mysterious other world. Everyone else? They’d have their hands full as well. And because Draco wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t intend to do any work without help from every adult who lived here.

 

A Fidelius Charm wasn’t foolproof.

 

In the frame above the fireplace, James Potter sighed in relief.

 

 

***

 

 

There was a heaviness in the air, the sky was just a little too dark like it always was just before a thunderstorm. It smelt like rain and electricity, and Sirius was quite proud to be able to say that word properly in his mind. It kept his imagination away from the horrors of Azkaban - which he couldn’t help but remember too clearly today. 

 

Because, since early this morning, Sirius was back in England. 

 

He didn’t want to be. He needed to stay with his boys, and he would go back to them before the fast-approaching full moon, but for now, he was here, ready to open up the Black properties with Charlie by his side. At least he wasn’t doing this on his own. 

 

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but that place is even creepier than last year.” He stared at the silent portrait of his mother. “I think it’s because she’s not screaming.” It wasn’t. He just needed to say something.

 

“Dumbledore put her to sleep.”

 

He frowned and kicked a dead doxy, sending it flying down the corridor of Grimmauld Place. “Of course, he did that after I left.”

 

“Not sure he knew how, before that,” Charlie explained, grabbing Sirius’ hand and squeezing reassuringly. “I think it’s much creepier outside right now.”

 

Sirius turned around and stared at him, almost gaping. “You felt it too?”

 

“Like the sky’s about to fall?” A snort. “Yeah.”

 

“Thought it was just me. Dementor residue or something.”

 

“Could be that, if they’re wandering around, but you know how they feel better than me, you tell me.”

 

Charlie was right, Sirius thought with a sigh. Dementors brought cold and despair, nothing like this. “That’s not it then.”

 

They looked at each other and the older man believed they both associated the atmospheric anomalies with Voldemort’s magic. It was too dark and insidious. It hadn’t even felt that way during the first war, so perhaps they were wrong?

 

No point dwelling on this. Sirius sliced his hand open, hissed in pain and pressed his palm against the wall, waking up old magic that was begging to be unleashed. It would please his mother. The new Lord Black, using Blood Magic in his ancestral home? Pleasing was a rather weak word, actually: it would delight her so much she’d probably die of shock if she were still alive. The additional protective spells that had laid dormant for so long flared up, sending a thrill of pleasure through Sirius’ spine, one he tried to ignore. 

 

“I was wondering what we’re waiting for,” Charlie said, breaking his boyfriend’s introspection. 

 

Sirius blinked. “Mh?”

 

“His Horcruxes. There’s only one left, right? Nagini. Snape can destroy her. What’s the point of all these meetings? What are we preparing for?”

 

It was an excellent question, one that bothered Sirius more and more every second. He healed his wounded hand and clenched his jaw. “We don’t need to do that. We’re losing valuable time. The Ministry is too destabilised to care about us right now and Snakeface isn’t in power yet. We could attack, but Dumbledore doesn’t want us to. It’s just like keeping the Horcruxes intact and not telling us about it. He’s waiting for something.” He pulled at his hair. “That fucking prophecy!”

 

Charlie paled, his freckles stood up sharply on his face. “He can’t. Harry’s not a Horcrux anymore. That’s bullshit.”

 

“What if it isn’t? Perhaps he still believes in it.”

 

“But You-Know-Who wants to protect Harry, so why would he think it’s still valid?” His mind was reeling, and his godson’s smiling face flashed before his eyes. Anger bubbled up in his veins. There was no way he’d let the old bearded fool force such a confrontation. Voldemort might not want to hurt Harry anymore but he would destroy everyone else, Draco included. 

 

Charlie’s arms sneaked around his waist. Sirius hadn’t realised he was dry-heaving. “Breathe deeply. Come on.” He nodded frantically and took in a deep breath. “Good. I’m right here. We need to sit down and bring in more people if we’re going to plan something big.”

 

“Better clean up the dining room then.”

 

Charlie groaned and Sirius tried to laugh, but it came out strained. Dumbledore was manipulative, not evil, but perhaps having all his plans crushed one after the other had made him more secretive. Perhaps he’d found something he hadn’t shared when they were camping in Albania. With the power Voldemort yielded today, with so many Dementors at his beck and call, if they simply moved people away then continued to talk in useless meetings, people would die. If they acted now? They might be able to stop it all before war broke out.

 

A wicked smirk graced Sirius’ lips. “Well, I guess we’re taking him down.”

 

 

***

 

 

Professor Flitwick had agreed with Draco: adding more spells to the wards might not be a good idea. On the other hand, they could prepare independent protections, and Frank the Conjured cloud was a perfect test subject. Harry didn’t envy them at the moment: they were outside in the cold, attempting to figure out how to coax a cloud back towards the hotel. At least it meant Harry would need to warm up his freezing boyfriend later. 

 

He only realised he was smiling like a loon when Astoria poked his shoulder. “Can you focus for a minute?”

 

He rubbed his arm. From the nearby painting, he heard a snort. Of course, his father’s portrait enjoyed seeing him in such a state. 

 

The other portrait smiled benevolently. “My darling girl, let him enjoy his daydreams. Love is such a wondrous thing.” 

 

“You sound like Dumbledore, sir.”

 

Ignotus’ smile froze and he huffed. Harry bit his lower lip, amused, and decided to pay attention to his younger friend. He apologised. Astoria brushed her long hair with her fingers, her gaze fixed on Anubis. “I forgive you. Now, do you have any idea where to start?”

 

They’d been studying everything Astoria had brought back from the Department of Mysteries, knowing she couldn’t continue her lessons until the threat was eliminated. Harry was seriously impressed with the amount of documentation available, especially because almost everything was composed of notes taken by the teenager. Her talent was so rare that information about it was scarce around the world, but with Ignotus and her teacher’s help, on top of her observations into the other world, she’d gathered a great number of details.

 

Harry would never be able to open up portals or travel out of his body. But he could manipulate Ley Lines. 

 

Between both of them, they could entrap Voldemort in the other world. The creatures that roamed this realm would destroy him. The only problem? They were the only ones who had the slightest chance of succeeding.

 

Harry hated it. Instead of letting anger take over, he had chosen to think about his boyfriend and that ridiculous cloud, and Astoria had brought him back to reality.

 

Leaving Hogwarts and the United Kingdom meant he could finally have a normal life. He’d been so happy. In the end, what if more people died because Voldemort was allowed to roam free for too long?

 

He didn’t want to get involved, but he already was, after all. Sirius had shielded him; now the Death Eaters knew where they were. When Draco had revealed what might happen to their protections, he’d been determined to keep everyone safe in his way. And it meant acting quickly if the adults wouldn’t do it themselves.

 

He answered Astoria’s question with a defeated slump of his shoulders. “We need someone to help us. We can’t go back ourselves. I would never forgive myself if you got hurt, or if I- if something happened to me.” His cheeks felt hot. He knew his own life had value. He knew Draco and Sirius would be absolutely devastated if he was killed, and he couldn’t do that do them. Just the thought of making them cry felt like being stabbed through his stomach.

 

“But, Harry, no one else knows what we know!”

 

“It doesn’t matter. What if we make a mistake because we decided to do everything on our own?”

 

Her chin dropped. “You think it’s my fault Draco’s a Werewolf.”

 

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. They’d had that conversation more than once. “I told you. You couldn’t have known. All you did was take the Diadem through the other world, not knowing what it was. If you blame yourself, why don’t you blame Luna? She gave it to you.”

 

“It’s not Luna’s fault!” She glared at him furiously.

 

“Then accept that it isn’t yours either. We can’t go around blaming each other or ourselves. We can only move forward.”

 

“My baby is so grown up!” James exclaimed tearfully, breaking the awkwardness between them. “Tell Sirius and Vitaly.”

 

“I can’t send Hedwig, it’s too dangerous for her, Sirius is in London-”

 

“And Astoria can open up portals.”

 

The girl stood up. “I guess I’ll be an owl today.”

 

And a hole appeared in the air, leading straight to Grimmauld Place, through the Fidelius. Harry heard his father mutter about breaching one of the most secure spells in existence, and the thought that Voldemort could use them and walk straight into their kitchen was like fuel for their plan. This was part of the reason why they couldn’t wait for the Order to act, for someone else to kill him: the more time he had to study the portal that was probably still open in Malfoy Manor, the easiest it would be for him to enter every single safe house in the world and slaughter his enemies like sheep.

 

When Astoria came back an hour later, she was laughing, and she told him that Sirius and Charlie were in the middle of a meeting with Moody, Andromeda, Ted, McGonagall and Adrian’s parents. They were trying to figure out how to kill Nagini.

 

“Great minds think alike,” she said.

 

Harry could only agree. 


	25. The Golden Quartet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for how late this chapter was. I got completely stuck with it, struggled for weeks until I finally decided to delete it entirely and rewrite it. It was very different before and it sucked. Thanks for your patience!

“Why are we doing this?” Draco asked, fidgeting with his Portkey and glancing at the conjured cloud that was now wrapped around the school like an angry blanket. 

 

Pansy shivered in the cold. “Because we’re the new Golden Trio? Well, quartet.”

 

“You shouldn’t be there. Sirius will kill us all and it’ll be your fault. Yours too, by the way,” he added with a pointed look at Harry and Astoria, who grinned at him.

 

They’d been listening in on the last few unofficial Order meetings thanks to Astoria’s portals, and while they would love nothing more than to let adults deal with Voldemort, their plan had major flaws that might result in their death. Draco had been angry and terrified, but he had finally agreed with Harry: they each had something to bring to the fight that might tip the balance in their favour. Harry had access to Voldemort’s spell repertoire. He knew his fighting style and spoke Parseltongue, which might be needed to approach Nagini. 

Draco was a talented duelist but he was also a Werewolf. This close to his first full moon, his senses were so enhanced they scared him. He’d be able to tell instantly if someone was getting close, and could warn people with enough time to spare for everyone to escape safely.

 

Astoria’s unique powers could get rid of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. She had a Lethifold with her, for Merlin’s sake. And Pansy? She was the wild card. Her fight against the Carrows had shown Draco how capable she was. But he worried about her. 

 

He worried for all of them, ever since Harry and Astoria’s experiments with the portals had allowed them to spy on the Order. There was something deep inside him, a feral need to watch over them. He knew it was the wolf, who recognised his friends like family - the Weres from the Ministry would call it his “pack”. Remus Lupin found the term distasteful, but he hadn’t been given the opportunity to merge with the monster within. While Draco’s education had been cut short, he had still been able to start meditating for a specific purpose. 

 

He didn’t want to hate the scars on his neck and arm. Not after breaking down and worrying Harry and Sirius. It was difficult. And it was worth the struggle.

 

His inner battle had given way to a sense of purpose. Was it what it felt like to be a Gryffindor? What he was about to do certainly didn’t qualify as a Slytherin behaviour.

 

Harry squeezed his hand, grounding him, bringing him back to the present, to the feeling of the Portkey between his fingers. He looked at his incredible green eyes and smiled, smothering his worries.

 

Their plan was good but it relied on the adults accepting their presence. 

 

Breathing in deeply, Draco prayed for success. 

 

They stepped out of the wards, activated their Portkeys and vanished into thin air, reappearing under the rain in London. Their wands were untraceable, so they had no qualms about using magic. The small back alley they’d landed in was dark and smelly. Pansy cast _ Homenum Revelio  _ while Harry sent his Patronus to Sirius. 

 

It barely took a minute before a furious-looking Snape Apparated in front of them. “What, in Morgana’s name, do you think you are doing here?”

 

If Harry replied, the man would burst a blood vessel, so Draco took a step forward and sought out his gaze. “Not here, please.”

 

His godfather had come prepared and handed them a piece of parchment with the words, Sirius Black's home is located at number 12, Grimmauld Place. The Fidelius was now lifted for them, they became aware of the existence of this address, and Draco remembered it from his childhood nightmares. He frowned in distaste at the memories. 

 

Snape side-along Apparated them, and with a glance towards Harry, after they arrived in front of the building, he knew they shared the same thought: Sirius would be beside himself.

 

And Merlin, he was. 

 

As soon as the teenagers were safely inside, Molly Weasley started shrieking. Draco fully believed he was hearing Walburga’s portrait at first. 

 

“Can we at least listen to what they want to say?” Sirius yelled so his voice could be heard above hers. The woman’s face had turned an unflattering shade of red, but somehow, Draco’s godfather looked even scarier: the anger in his eyes was almost palpable. 

 

“May I suggest chaining them in the basement to prevent further idiotic pursuits?”

 

For a short while, Draco believed Sirius would agree and ruin everything. Right next to him, Harry was vibrating and Pansy kept biting her lips. 

 

Charlie shook his head but he was smiling (and did his hand just squeeze Sirius’ ass? Draco wondered if he could ask to be Obliviated). “So, boys and girls, care to explain?” 

 

“We came to help,” Astoria said. “We heard you-”

 

“Spied on us. How?” Kingsley asked with a frown. 

 

Sirius snorted. “It’s not important right now. I can guarantee that no one else has that ability. Our secrets are safe.”

 

Gratitude made Draco relax. No one wished to give too much information on Astoria’s powers, even within the Order, and he was relieved that the incident with the Horcrux went untold. The girl didn’t need to be reminded of her mistakes.

 

“We heard what you were planning,” Harry continued, wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist. “You need us.” He lifted a hand when Arthur opened his mouth. “Please, listen. I’m aware that you don’t want us here. We shouldn’t be here, we’re too young - believe me, I wish I could just stay in my room while you kill Snakeface. But if you go without us, you won’t make it.

 

“You need Draco to trick the wards of Malfoy Manor. He’s not a Malfoy anymore but he was born there. Without him, you won’t have enough time before the Manor itself rises against you.”

 

Draco noticed the grim expression on Bill’s face (how many Weasleys were there anyway?). That had been one of their concerns, then. He listened when Harry explained how a Parselmouth could get to Nagini with ease, and how Astoria could kill several Death Eaters at once without them ever noticing. Kingsley demanded an explanation and was denied, once again. Draco had to admit the man took it rather well, accepting that the girl had an important secret. Or perhaps he was just planning on discovering it later. 

 

“What about Parkinson?” Moody grunted.

 

Draco stared straight at his moving eye. “She killed Amycus and incapacitated Alecto Carrow with basic curses we learned at Hogwarts. Actually, almost everyone at Lilium is now a skilled duelist and could be useful, but I understand why you would not want them involved.”

 

The retired Auror huffed, but out of all of them, he seemed to understand the value of keeping the teenagers here. He turned around and the Order followed, grumbling about underage soldiers. Draco kissed Harry’s cheek and they all sat down in the grimy kitchen while Molly made tea and coffee. 

Sirius startled him by grabbing his shoulder after taking the chair next to him. “You’d better have a perfect plan, and you’re grounded for the next twenty years. You too, Pronglet.” Harry blushed.

 

Draco looked at the stack of parchment in front of him, finding a list of the properties now housing those who should have taken the Hogwarts Express for Christmas and would have been Marked during the holidays. Their names were listed under each house, with a huge number of Muggleborns and their families. Those who stood out were all known to him.

 

Hazel Stickney, Alois Dolohov, Samantha Fawcett, Agatha Thrussington, Titus Avery, Tracey Davis. Sixth and Seventh Year students who might just survive their parents’ foolishness. With Dolohov and Avery having a family member in the Inner Circle, there was no doubt they would never see the start of the new year if they refused to bow to Voldemort. 

 

There was another list beside this one. These names hurt. 

 

Simon Chambers,  _ Vincent Crabbe _ , Lillian Moon, Lucian Bole, Peregrine Derrick, Graham Montague, Miles Bletchley, Harriet Ellesmere, Marietta Edgecombe, Helen Dawlish, Isabella Tintwistle, Kenneth Towler, Eldon Pembroke, Geronimus Travers and Morag McDougal. All of them in holding cells since the ICW broke the government. The youngest was fifteen. Would Voldemort attempt to get them out? Would he even need to? Every department was so deeply infiltrated that Draco would bet on the presence of Death Eaters among the Aurors.  

 

Yet another reason to stop dicking around. 

 

Harry took charge once everyone had a mug to drink from. He explained his idea, how to make sure there would be no escape for Voldemort once Nagini was dead - if he did, he might make another Horcrux and they would lose the advantage of a sentient Manor on their side. Draco loved seeing his boyfriend acting so mature. 

 

Pansy shared her version of Plan B, where Harry would play bait since Voldemort would do everything to keep him safe. 

 

“Let’s make sure we do not need Plan B,” Snape drawled, making Sirius nod with a grimace. 

 

“Do we have Harry’s cloak?” Bill asked. Draco wondered how his new job at the Dwarven bank was going.

 

Charlie gave him a thumbs up. “Yep. Ron brought it home for the holidays. Draco, can you ensure that the Manor is awake and aware of what’s happening?”

 

Yes, he could. Harry replied before he could. “Blood Magic. I know which ritual we need.”

 

It had been a tricky subject to speak about, with Harry’s great reluctance to use anything that could affect them later in life. They hadn’t forgotten Professor Gnedykh’s first Defence lesson - and speaking of him, Draco was astonished to see him here, looking decidedly sick. The man was going back and forth between England and Norway, doing protective rituals, giving up his soul for their sake. 

 

At the mention of the ritual, the Russian stared at Harry. “Let me conduct it.”

 

“Professor-”

 

“No, Potter, listen: you know what rituals can do. You know what kind of attention they attract, and you have, rightfully so, always been disgusted by them.”

 

“This one might kill you,” Draco observed, keeping his voice calm with great difficulty. His grip on Harry’s wrist was tight.

 

The Order members looked at the man without a word, and Draco knew. 

 

Professor Gnedykh was already dying and had been for some time. It was no surprise when Molly offered to cook for all of them later, but to Draco, it sounded like the last meal before an execution.

  
  


 

***

 

 

Malfoy Manor was looming over them from the top of the hill. Harry clutched his emergency Portkey as the wind played with the folds of his cloak. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds. It wasn’t raining yet but the air smelled like thunder. In front of him, Draco was murmuring a seemingly endless incantation in Latin, his right hand dripping blood in the wet grass. 

 

Sirius, Kingsley, Andromeda, Gnedykh, Pansy, Astoria, Bill and Charlie were here with them, at the edge of the wards, the night after the meeting. Snape had informed them that most Death Eaters had now left the Manor to attack an unknown target, so the remaining members of the Order - some who knew about the assault on the Manor, and the others - were waiting for the Potions Master’s signal to go help the future victims.

 

Those who took part in the secret mission under Dumbledore’s nose had been given Portkeys, Instant Darkness powder - courtesy of the Weasley twins, bracelets and rings imbued with a paraphernalia of Auror-grade stealth and protection Charms (stolen from the Ministry by Kingsley), and Galleons that would become warm or cold depending on what kind of urgent message needed to be transmitted between them. Sirius had the Invisibility Cloak and a flask of Basilisk venom, harvested by Snape in the Chamber. Andromeda and Pansy would stay hidden here, outside, ready to defend Vitaly and alert the Aurors brought into the country by the ICW if things went wrong.

 

Standing there, waiting for the wards to accept them… It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Harry couldn’t help but remember how he had felt before the Third Task, a year and a half ago. But tonight, the stakes were much higher. They couldn’t fail.

 

Draco’s chanting ended and a gust of warm wind blew dead leaves in Harry’s face. On the ground, where he had bled, a series of runes drawn by Vitaly lit up, bright red. 

 

The man had refused to hear anyone say goodbye. It didn’t keep Harry from telling him what an honour it had been to be instructed by such a knowledgeable professor, or Draco from thanking him solemnly. They all hoped he would live through the night, but if he didn’t, they didn’t want to leave anything unsaid.

 

When a smirk stretched the Russian’s lips, a jolt ran up Harry’s spine. Draco transformed into Teeth and was enveloped in a protective shield when he crossed the wards to wait for them on the other side. Astoria’s staff hit the dirt at her feet and Harry, so attuned to the magic of the land, saw her spiritual self step out of her body and smile at him. He nodded at her, grateful for her presence.

 

“We’re ready.” 


	26. Wiltshire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends in a cliffhanger that almost made me refuse to post until the next two chapters were ready. They almost are, so I figured I would let you choose to read it or wait.
> 
> Have fun!

Malfoy Manor sang through Draco’s bones, welcoming him home, opening the way. It understood that his little Dragon, disavowed by his soulless father, was here to cleanse the darkness that clung to every brick of every wall and seeped into the floor. The Manor was compromised, hosting something so evil, so forsaken by Magic herself, that it couldn’t fight against it. In its desperation, it decided to listen to the boy’s plea. 

 

It welcomed the Half-Blood whose mind had been darkened, poisoned by the same monster who dwelt within its walls. It let the spiritual essence of the Pureblood girl wander its grounds. It was surprised by Sirius Black’s presence, not because of who he was, but because he was his little Dragon’s new father and, unlike Lucius, loved him unconditionally. The strength of those feelings, mirrored differently by the Half-Blood, made the Manor purr. 

 

It couldn’t help them much, not with the darkness binding it, but it could guide them. It knew what they were looking for, knew it could trick the servants of the monster at least a little bit… it would do its part. 

 

 

***

 

 

Draco scurried along the wall, keeping to the shadows, his weasel brain fully alert. The candles seemed to create less light than they used to, the air was stale and his sensitive nose picked up the disgusting scent of putrefied flesh and black magic. Hints of the past still came through, triggering memories that Draco tried to ignore. There was no time to reminisce his childhood. 

 

He needed to disable any foreign ward or spell that the Manor was fighting against. A Curse-Breaker wouldn’t be able to do much, not without ties to the land. Each doorway was covered in traps. 

 

There was a noise behind him, and Draco vanished into the shadows just in time.

 

 

***

 

 

Walking on the wall, just where it met the ceiling, Harry was looking for Nagini in his Animagus form. Quietly, he moved through the rooms Draco had already been in, glad for the absence of most Death Eaters. He spotted Wormtail and forced himself to move on, to smother his anger before he put the entire operation in jeopardy. The traitor still hadn’t gotten rid of his most rodent-like habits; the way he moved, his skittishness, all screamed rat to Harry.

 

He was about to continue his exploration when Wormtail let out a strangled cry and lost consciousness. If he had been able to, Harry would have rolled his eyes as soon as he understood that Sirius was right there, under the Cloak. He only hoped he hadn’t killed the man, as Voldemort would most likely feel it.

 

There would be time for revenge later. 

 

He spotted Astoria at the end of the corridor. She seemed more curious than careful, given that Harry was the only one able to see her. Anubis floated above her head, concealed to those he wished to hide from. As a reaper, he was waiting eagerly for the opportunity to drag Voldemort’s broken soul away.

 

Harry moved quickly towards the girl, but stopped again before reaching her, when he heard someone complain about the cold. Some of the sounds were very specific to one language: Parseltongue. He ran down the wall, looked around, and turned back into himself. A few seconds later, an invisible hand grabbed his arm, just above his wand-holster. 

 

“ _ Homenum Revelio _ ,” Sirius’ disembodied voice whispered. No result. “ _ Vipera Revelio _ .” This time, the form of a massive snake shimmered straight through the wall. “Pronglet?”

 

Harry nodded quickly and slipped into the small room, feeling the residue of a trap on the doorstep. He mentally thanked Draco for getting ahead of all of them and working with his house, because the magic left behind by that disabled spell was nasty. 

 

“ _ Masssster _ ?”

 

Harry stepped closer.

 

“ _ Wrong ssssmell… Not massster… not ugly rat… who issss thissss? _ ”

 

“ _ Stupefy _ !  _ Glacius _ !”

 

Nagini froze on the spot, her body already positioned to strike. Sirius dropped the Cloak and Harry kept his wand pointed at the snake. A memory flashed briefly in front of his eyes: the gravestone, the pain of a knife slicing through his arm, the abject terror at the sight of the homunculus and the cauldron… he fought against the oncoming panic. Sirius was fast enough to make him win the battle with his mind: the man distracted him, slicing into Nagini’s skin with a quick spell, then pouring Basilisk venom into the wound. 

 

Harry's hand shot towards his godfather and he pulled him back just in time to avoid the malevolent mist of the Horcrux. They watched, mesmerised until it vanished into thin hair. The only sound Harry could hear was their ragged breathing. 

 

Did Voldemort feel the backlash? Did he care? He still believed Harry was one, after all.

 

The Galleon in their pocket heated up. An instant later, Teeth joined them, chirping, before changing into Draco. Harry felt his legs weaken in relief, and both boys were quickly hugged by Sirius.

 

“The Manor sealed the room,” Draco said, not breaking the embrace. “No one will know we’re here for now.”

 

Harry buried his nose into his hair. “Just him left.”

 

“Just him,” Sirius replied, strengthening his hold on the boys. “I love you both so much.”

 

Blinking back tears, Harry bit his lower lip. He wished he could linger here forever, with his boyfriend and godfather, safe into this room. But they had to go before the Death Eaters came back from their raid.

 

 

***

 

 

Cloak off, Sirius fought against the urge to force his boys to take the Portkey and run. Harry’s knowledge of dark magic might still be needed and Draco’s power over the Manor couldn’t be underestimated. He just had to make sure nothing would happen to them. 

 

After sending a signal through the Galleon, he was joined by the Weasley brothers. He chucked Wormtail and Nagini into the same parlour and Bill threw Instant Darkness Powder over them, obscuring the entire room. Together, they took the stairs to the West Wing, but Draco was called to the East Wing by the Manor and left them. In a way, Sirius was relieved, even if he didn't like knowing his son was wandering alone. Harry was walking above them on the ceiling. No doubt Astoria was nearby. 

 

The portraits on the walls kept quiet, following them with their icy gaze. Sirius trusted that Draco had made the Manor silence them, as at least one of them, Abraxas, had been one of the original Death Eaters and would alert his Master if given the chance. 

 

They were heading in the right direction: the stench of death was getting stronger. Black mould spread above their heads, shivering, alive, like tendrils of rot slowly infecting their surroundings. Sirius had only ever seen such a thing in the cellar of Grimmauld Place. It spoke of pure evil. Worried, he looked at the gecko and sighed in relief. Harry understood the danger of getting closer to the mould and jumped off the ceiling, landing on Charlie’s shoulder.

 

The corridor took a sharp turn, and Sirius knew what would be behind the door at the end of the hallway. He felt such a deep fear that he had to stop walking for a few seconds, just to clear his mind. He glared at Harry and was about to order him to stay behind when suddenly, he realised something was wrong. The air shifted. He turned around, saw a blur, and a spell flew towards Bill. A hastily erected shield deflected it. Charlie barely avoided another curse and pushed Sirius out of the way.

 

“I must applaud your talent, Black, Weasley. Coming all this way undetected - most impressive.”

 

Voldemort looked nothing like the man from Sirius’ memories. This creature was a grotesque imitation of the Dark Lord whose very presence commanded either the most gut-wrenching fear or the most fervent loyalty. He was still terrifying - but not because he oozed power. His red eyes shone in the darkened hallway. He made a show of clapping his hands, slowly, and the trio stepped back. 

 

“Are you truly running away? It was just starting to be fun!” A silent hex left the bone-white wand, headed for Sirius. 

 

The Animagus blocked it and sent a Cutting Curse in return. Voldemort’s shield absorbed it. And suddenly, Sirius wasn’t in the corridor anymore, but on a battlefield, wearing Auror robes. He forgot his worries about Harry, about Charlie, about Draco - he left everything behind, and cast curse after curse.

 

Voldemort snarled when a new Cutting Curse hit his left shoulder. Boiling hot water met a Conjured slab of stone. A Choking Hex made Voldemort waver. Bone Crushing Spell, Blood-Boiling Curse, Protective Charms, fire, ice, Transfigured traps - the duel went on. Sirius played to his strengths and Voldemort seemed to want to make it last. From afar, the Weasley brothers used protective magic whenever possible. 

 

As the Head of the House of Black reached the door at the end of the hallway, he realised it was open. He rushed inside and Voldemort followed, flying through the air, dark mist following his every move. On the threshold, he laughed harshly as Charlie and Bill joined the fight.

 

A shelf was violently thrown at the oldest redhead, resulting in a sickening crunch. From the fireplace, Sirius made the fire roar and strike. The black mist grabbed Charlie’s waist and squeezed. Sirius swore. 

 

He leapt across the room and he saw it on the opposite side. The portal. 

 

 

*** 

 

 

Harry hitched to join the fight. From his hiding spot above the door, he trembled at the blood seeping from Bill’s wound. Sirius was relentless, but would not be able to hold Voldemort off for long. But Harry had promised. 

 

Their only hope was the portal. He could see Astoria’s ghostly form chanting, waiting for the portal to open fully. He trusted that Draco was fine and still busy liberating the Manor from the clutches of darkness. At least, he wasn’t in this room.

 

He nearly transformed back when a sickly yellow curse hit Sirius’ thigh. His godfather didn’t falter. He fought back with everything he had. When Charlie freed himself from the mist, he ran to his brother’s side. 

 

Sirius’ mouth was bleeding, but he didn’t stop. 

 

Then, Voldemort Disarmed him, and Sirius turned into Padfoot, jumping at him and biting his wand arm. Harry saw the portal ripple, and Astoria stepped aside. The Lethifold grew to its normal size, but Voldemort didn’t see it. The veins of the wooden floor glowed softly.

 

Voldemort battled against the huge dog, unable to use his wand but still gathering power within his other palm. 

 

Harry left his safe spot, transformed, and dived deep into the feeling of the wood at his feet, infused with the magic of the Manor, with a life of its own. 

 

Charlie moved an unconscious Bill away, but ended up into the path of the Wandless Hex Voldemort had tried to throw at Sirius. The dog had moved at the last moment. Harry didn’t hesitate.

 

“ _ PROTEGO HORRIBILIS _ !” 

 

An opaque shield surrounded the Weasleys. Distracted, Voldemort, looked at him, an odd expression on his face. Sirius turned back, grabbed his wand, and sent a Blasting Curse at the Dark Lord, who managed to avoid it but moved exactly where they all wanted him to be: in front of the portal. And he laughed.

 

“Harry Potter - how nice of you to join in. Did you enjoy my little show in Diagon Alley?”

 

Sirius spat a mouthful of blood. Harry didn’t reply. He didn’t know what Voldemort was talking about, but he wouldn’t let him escape. 

 

“You, Black, would make a valuable Death Eater. What if I told you that I have no intention of harming your godson?”

 

Harry wondered if Voldemort had always been prone to monologues in battle, and he took advantage of it. “ _ Laqueum, _ ” he whispered, his wand pointed at the floor. The veins shone brighter, pulsing with magic, and travelled from him and Astoria, meeting at the monster’s feet. 

 

Voldemort continued his speech but suddenly stopped. He was stuck, his entire body paralysed but for his mouth and furious eyes. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

 

Rooted there, he was still too far from the portal to be dragged inside. Harry’s heart almost jumped out of his chest when Astoria nodded at him and entered the other world. Instantly, ropes of pure light grabbed the Dark Lord and pulled. But it wasn’t working, and he was already able to move his fingers. Harry exchanged a panicked look at his godfather, who simply winked, wiped the blood from his chin, and straightened his back. 

 

“You’re finished, Voldy. Or do you prefer Tommy?”

 

The white wand twitched, slowly pointing at him. Harry opened his mind to the magic of the land, and excruciatingly slowly, the trap around Voldemort’s ankles relaxed its hold just enough to move him around. 

 

“Do you really believe it’ll be that easy? Pushing me inside? That’s your brilliant plan, Potter? Black?” The Dark Lord laughed. “I cannot die!”

 

Charlie now stood next to his boyfriend, hiding Harry from view. The couple cast a spell to push him back, and it wasn’t fast enough. Harry spoke to the floor once more, asking it to release Voldemort, then frantically casting  _ Praendo _ , sticking him in mid-air. But he had already managed to move his arm into position, and the words of the Killing Curse were now leaving his lips in a hiss, chilling Harry to the core - and Sirius threw himself at Voldemort, the green jet of light hitting the ceiling as they both stumbled backwards.

 

And the portal swallowed them whole.

 

“SIRIUS!”


	27. Dragon's Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be 2 different chapters, but it would have made the cliffhanger drag on.

_Slug and Jiggers_ burned. Bodies littered the pavement; blood ran in rivers between darkened cobblestones. Gringotts’ massive doors were closed, Goblin wards preventing anyone from stepping within five meters of the building. 

 

Severus sneered at Yaxley, who stared straight ahead with empty eyes, his mind ready to receive orders. The Imperius was such an interesting spell. Amidst the chaos, no one noticed them, both hidden in the shadows.

 

“You will remove your Death Eater robes and go back to the Ministry. There, you will issue orders to the Dementors. Send them back to Azkaban. Tell them to wait for your orders. Then, find a holding cell, and lock yourself inside.”

 

Yaxley obeyed, vanishing in the darkness of Knockturn Alley. Severus took a deep breath and stared at the devastation.

 

Attacking Diagon Alley when so many people came to find last minute Yule or Christmas gifts had been a bold and unexpected move, one that had a single goal: it was a message to Potter. The Dark Lord wanted him to come to Malfoy Manor; he couldn’t have known that when the attack started, the boy was already there, and not for the same reasons. 

 

With no orders to spare anyone, the Death Eaters had shown their cruelty. The small part of the Order who had been working with Black was first on the scene, followed by Dumbledore and his lackeys. The British Aurors were too late and blamed the escape of the youngest Death Eaters and sympathisers for their slow reaction.

 

As a result, Severus was now looking at a sea of dead bodies.

 

Emmeline Vance and Dedalus Diggle had died together, crushed under a slab of stone after Dolohov’s destructive spells broke apart an entire house. He could also see the unmoving silhouettes of Vincent Crabbe and Simon Chambers, still in their prison garbs. Dumbledore, visibly struggling with his balance, was helping Moody with emergency healing procedures on a young woman who had been badly burned. 

 

He frowned, a sudden realisation hitting him. Yaxley and Dolohov had directed the attack, joined by a dozen minor Death Eaters Severus had only bothered learning the names of for Albus’ sake. Where did the other members of the Inner Circle go? 

 

“ _Expecto Patronum_!” The doe pranced. “Tell Dumbledore there are other targets. I’m going to Hogwarts.”

 

He Apparated to Hogsmeade and hoped he was wrong.

 

The sight that greeted him should have reassured him: the castle was still standing; the village was calm. Yet uneasiness crept up his spine. He quickly made his way to the gates and found them wide open.

 

It was then that he noticed the completed absence of lights coming from the windows and the heavy mist covering the ground.

 

***

 

Narcissa had just checked on her babies after waking up from a nightmare, when Mopsy and Kreacher appeared in front of her in the corridor, wringing their wrinkled hands.

 

“Mistress Cissa! There is being things outside-”

 

Kreacher let out a low wail, cutting Mopsy’s explanation. “Poor Master Regulus!”

 

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking out the window, unable to see anything in the darkness. 

 

“The things from the lake killed Master Regulus! Kreacher tried to save Master Regulus but Kreacher fai-”

 

“Stop this now! What things?”

 

Mopsy shivered. “The dead ones.”

 

Inferi. Narcissa paled. “Wake everyone.”

 

They had practiced emergency situations and she had still hoped that the Dark Lord wouldn’t attack. She was almost thankful that Draco had disobeyed and left for London, even if she couldn’t close her eyes without dreaming about the horrible fate that could be waiting for him.

 

“Kreacher will protect the little ones,” the old Elf grumbled. 

 

She nodded. “If the wards are attacked, take them away.”

 

She turned around and hurried downstairs, her silk nightgown flowing around her legs and her heart screaming not to leave her children - but she couldn’t put them in danger. In the entrance hall, Toppy was carrying blankets and food. Filius was casting energising Charms on the group of sleepy teenagers who were all in various state of undress. Remus, Nymphadora and the Squibs arrived last. 

 

No one spoke, so she took charge. “Do you have your emergency Portkey?”

 

Adrian was holding the rope that could bring them all to safety. “Here. What about the babies?”

 

“Kreacher will take them. Filius?”

 

The half-Goblin sighed, one foot out the door. “I’m heading out. I would appreciate your help.”

 

“Very well. _Expecto Patronum_!” Her Patronus, a Kneazle, ran around her ankles. “Alert Head Auror Hajjar. Lilium is under attack. Possible Inferi.”

 

The Kneazle vanished. 

 

Remus argued briefly with Nymphadora, who eventually relented and took hold of the rope. Narcissa didn’t voice her thoughts but she now knew her niece well enough to understand why she didn’t insist. Soon, Cepheus and Hydrus would have a new cousin. She heard Adrian ask if anyone could control Fiendfyre and cursed Vitaly for leaving, as he was the only one who could.

 

She was about to answer when a crocodile Patronus appeared: “Evacuate the students. Do not come out.”

 

“Well, I guess we’re not going then!” Filius said cheerfully. 

 

Narcissa glared at Terence, who had let go of the rope. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“You might need a Healer. I’m of age.”

 

“Look at this!” Remus gasped, pointing at the window.

 

Narcissa felt a sudden chill and she squinted at the darkness. In the sky, bursts of lightning illuminated the dark, elongated shape of Frank, the Conjured cloud. 

 

Filius squealed in excitement. “It’s working!” 

 

She could hardly believe that Draco had managed to do this, even with help from a Charms Master. Creating an atmospheric phenomenon was hard enough; making it react to threats by linking it to existing wards was unheard of, at least to her knowledge. As the first lightning strike hit the ground, a mix of dread and pride filled her.

 

The strike had shown them exactly what was clawing at the protective dome around them. Inferi, yes, but not just one. There were so many of them.

 

“Kreacher! Take my children!”

 

Her shoulders sagged in relief when the Elf left.

 

“Okay,” Nymphadora announced, carrying a disgruntled Perseus. “Seen them now. Let’s go. _Safety_!”

 

The Portkey took them away. Now left to their own devices, Narcissa, Filius, Remus and Terence waited in silence. Thunder rumbled, lightning smiting the reanimated bodies who were still too far to be clearly seen. Instinctively, they huddled closer, feeling the wards shake. 

 

“We need to leave,” Remus murmured. “There’s no reason to stay.”

 

Narcissa agreed sadly, thinking about the great memories she’d made here. “This isn’t Hogwarts, as much as I wish to call this place home.”

 

Filius gnawed on his lower lip, obviously reluctant. “I believe we need to ensure the place stays safe: what if Sirius and the others come back and those things are still there? We can’t send them a Patronus from another country.”

 

At the thought of Draco encountering even a single Inferius, Narcissa shuddered. 

 

“We might not need to stay!” Remus suddenly said, and as if on cue, a gigantic flame poured down on the undead army. 

 

“Dragons!” Terence ran to the closest window and stared in awe.

 

Wide eyed, Narcissa watched the winged creatures fly above the Conjured cloud, roasting the ground below them. She had no words to describe the scene at the edge of the wards. The Inferi were reduced to ashes, the lightning making the dragons even bigger than they really were, their black shadows floating in the sky. Screeches and roars filled her ears, the cacophony growing stronger, until it came to a sudden halt.

 

In a daze, she followed Remus and Filius outside, asking Terence to stay behind.

 

The Conjured cloud was resting once more. They walked slowly, until the dark shapes on the other side of the wards turned into people and beasts. Norwegian Aurors were casting identification spells on the charred bodies, Bubble-head Charms protecting them from the horrendous smell they exuded. Narcissa quickly imitated them, just in time, bile already prickling her throat. 

 

No one could see them. Their location, behind the protections, was still under Fidelius. Narcissa listened to the Head Auror as she barked orders. Dragon handlers congratulated their charges, all of them Norwegian Ridgebacks who almost looked smug, like big puppies (with huge, sharp teeth) after a successful trick. 

 

Filius was the first to leave the security of the wards. Attention turned to him. The Head Auror introduced herself. Remus and Narcissa followed, though they already knew the woman. 

 

“Miss Black.”

 

“Auror Hajjar. Thank you for coming so quickly.” How strange was it to be called Miss after so many years as Lady Malfoy? She didn’t forget that the Head Auror had helped Sirius figure out how to get her out of her marriage. 

 

“We had the area under surveillance. We need to find out how these creatures found you; I hope our presence here won’t inconvenience you.”

 

Filius grinned. “Take all the time we need.”

 

“Thank you.” She looked up. “Amazing bit of magic. Is everyone safe?”

 

“We evacuated, Auror.”

 

“Good. Mister Lupin, it has been a long time. Have you given any thought to joining our forces?”

 

Narcissa stopped listening, her mind drifting to her sons. Cepheus and Hydrus would be in France by now: their safehouse was none other than Château Delacour, in Brittany, and they had Fleur to thank for it. But Draco, her beautiful, stubborn child, had chosen to act like a Gryffindor, and she would ground him for a decade if it could prevent him from ever doing such a ridiculous thing again. All she could do was trust him and his abilities to get out of harm’s way. 

 

***

 

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

 

A masked figure fell to the ground like a house of cards. Severus ducked, Disarmed, and killed the servants of the Dark Lord, his cover blown, his arm burning as the Dark Mark died. They often underestimated him, hating how close he was to their Lord, and forgetting that he wasn’t just a Potions Master. He took them down like they were insects under his boots. 

 

When Nott Senior’s neck was severed by a Sectumsempra, he allowed himself to pause. Only one Death Eater remained standing. Septima Vector delivered the last blow, knocking him unconscious and immobilising him, and together they turned around, just in time to welcome the latecomers who’d been too busy in Diagon Alley.

 

Wordlessly, Minerva closed Pomona Sprout’s unseeing eyes. 

 

“Who else, Severus?” 

 

Biting back a harsh retort, the black-haired man sneered at Albus, who was limping. “Charity Burbage. Unfortunately, I do not have eyes elsewhere, so if you’ll excuse me, I would like to find our students.”

 

The school had been deserted when he pushed the doors open. Death Eaters had swarmed it shortly after, so they must have been warned, somehow. 

 

“Albus, the fog-”

 

“Yes, Kingsley, you’re quite right. If you could, Headmistress?” the old man replied with his usual infuriating twinkle. 

 

Severus heard her ask Hogwarts to defend them and he swept past his colleagues, hoping Yaxley would be quick enough. With so much mist outside, there was no telling just how many Dementors were about to attack. He ran to Myrtle’s bathroom.  

 

The Chamber of Secrets was colder than usual when he entered it and found the entire student body inside. Those who had never seen it before couldn’t stop gaping at the statues, the Ravenclaws turning hysterical about the History around them and the Hufflepuffs keeping to themselves to reassure the youngest students. They all had one thing in common: they’d had their sleep interrupted and were sluggish. It wasn’t even dawn yet.

 

They all went deathly quiet at the sight of him. 

 

“I see you were smart enough to seek refuge here. Is everyone accounted for?”

 

Miss Lovegood’s absent smile unnerved him. “All but those who already went home, sir.”

 

“I hope you won’t mind if I keep you company.” Many children looked like they minded very much, and he didn’t care. 

 

“Of course not, Professor. We always need one more Patronus against Dementors.”

 

He wouldn’t question how she knew, having an inkling that she had alerted everyone (and had been, for once, listened to). Miss Lovegood might very well have saved lives.

 

***

 

Hogwarts raised additional wards. The few Death Eaters patrolling the halls were quickly taken care of by suits of armour or moving staircases, falling to their death. The stone floor swallowed one persistent bugger who was torturing Professor Trelawney, and a portrait informed Madam Pomfrey so she could come to her rescue before it was too late.

 

Down in the courtyard, teachers and Order members met with foreign Aurors. The threat was getting closer, a black cloud much larger than the one that had attacked Hogsmeade. 

 

Those creatures, abominations that shouldn’t exist, were already above the Forbidden Forest. 

 

The Castle shuddered in anger.

 

She felt the freezing cold breeze running through her halls and the warmth of the children’s Patroni, deep down in the Chamber. She watched as numerous adults cast their own shining guardian, over and over, as waves of darkness swept across the Quidditch stands, Hagrid’s hut and the Black Lake. 

 

They quickened their approach. 

 

Hogwarts’ fury grew. The shackles that repressed her power, loosened by her Heads of House, tried to maintain their hold on her. She wouldn’t let them.

 

She screamed and her magic exploded. A blinding light found its way outside, regrouping until it took the shape of a gigantic Hebridean Black. It roared, took flight, and spit out a white fire, destroying every Dementor who encountered it. 

 

It didn’t chase them when they fled. Instead, it landed in front of the bemused group of fighters, staring at the sky, until the fog vanished into thin air.

 

Free at last, Hogwarts laughed.

 

***

 

Draco refused to move. It had been an hour now. Harry was laying on the floor, his head using Draco’s crossed legs as a pillow, staring at the portal in exhaustion. The room - Lucius’ office - looked like a tornado had ravaged it, and to Draco’s right, where the biggest bookshelf had fallen, a large puddle of blood was slowly drying. 

 

He didn’t know what to do. 

 

They’d tried everything, short of going through the portal themselves. Harry had almost done it, and Draco had to beg him not to. He’d just lost his adoptive father; he couldn’t lose his boyfriend too. 

 

Hearing footsteps, he looked to the left. Charlie joined them, limping, blood all over his clothes and a nasty cut across his face. His eyes were haunted.

 

“Hey.”

 

Draco forced himself to speak. “How’s your brother?”

 

“I Apparated him back to Grimmauld. Mum was the only one there. She put him in a Healing sleep.”

 

Draco wasn’t surprised that she would know how to do it. With seven children, she must have learned many ways to keep them alive. His own mother had gathered some knowledge of it when he was small, but with the Malfoy money allowing them to hire the best Healers in Britain, she never found it necessary to go further than the basics. 

 

Thinking about her brought him back to Sirius. He didn’t understand how this could have happened. Harry’s fingers were wrapped tightly around his right hand, ice cold. It felt like in this room, time had stopped, and nothing made any sense anymore.

 

When Pansy and Vitaly made an appearance, Draco realised the sun was already rising. His childhood friend had a bruised cheekbone and a split lip, but she walked with an energy that told him she’d managed to take down whoever had done that to her. Gnedykh was using her as a crutch, looking so pale and weak that Draco almost stood up to help. Almost. He didn’t want to move, to stop touching Harry’s hair.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

 

Pansy sniffed. “My parents. Crabbe’s dad, too. They’re dead. Andromeda protected us.”

 

“Are you alright?” He couldn’t help worrying, even knowing what Pansy’s parents were like. 

 

“I’m free, aren’t I? I’m great. Your aunt stayed with Astoria.”

 

This meant the girl’s spiritual self hadn’t come back yet. Odd. He frowned. “Why not?”

 

“Can’t really ask someone who’s not there.”

 

Gnedykh chuckled and let himself fall, using the wall as support to do it slowly. “That’s why I insisted to be brought here.”

 

Harry let go of his hand and sat up, his palm now resting on his thigh. Their eyes met. “Do you think it’s not over? Can we help?”

 

The Dark Arts teacher managed a smile. Draco was astonished to see him alive. “Please. Burn runes in the wood.”

 

Harry’s eyes had a fire in them. “Death Circle?”

 

“I knew sharing your brain with the Dark Lord would come in handy. Yes. Don’t activate them.”

 

Draco glanced at Charlie, who was now holding onto his shoulders. He knew they were all thinking the same thing but didn’t dare speak about it. For the next few minutes, Harry carefully carved runes Draco couldn’t fully read in the splintered floor. The Manor didn’t seem to mind, too busy cleansing itself now that the source of its troubles was gone. The air was already lighter.

 

As the sun peaked above the horizon, Harry stepped back and admired his work, his face neutral for those who didn’t know him that well. Draco could read him easily, however, and he saw his determination and hope. He found himself sharing it.

 

When Gnedykh started chanting, unable to stand up, he walked up to him, Pansy and Charlie sticking close, just in case the man needed help. It was strange to see him alive; he wasn’t expecting him to be breathing by now. 

 

The portal opened enough to show the swamp-like landscape Astoria had told them about. The fog was too dense to see much. 

 

“Send a Patronus through,” Gnedykh rasped. 

 

It took more than a few tries for both Draco and Harry to summon their Sea Wyvern and small weasel. 

 

“Find Sirius!”

 

The shining creatures bowed and went through the portal.

 

They just had to wait.

 

Minutes passed. Pansy wiped the sweat from Gnedykh’s brow and Harry found solace in Draco’s arms. Charlie paced back and forth.

 

There was nothing to do now but hope - did he dare?

 

His breath hitched and he tightened his hold on Harry. He couldn’t remember being so helpless before, and he couldn’t stop looking at the portal. Its stillness made him want to pull his hair out.

 

In the eerie silence, Draco almost missed the sound of small bells ringing. Almost. They coincided with Astoria and Andromeda bursting into the room, causing Harry to swear in surprise and Gnedykh to let out a raspy laugh. Draco took in his aunt’s appearance. Gone was the poised Pureblood woman: right now, she looked like Bellatrix, her hair frizzy, messy and her jaw clenched. Her robes were singed - and unless Draco was mistaken, she seemed to have lost an eye, though it was difficult to tell with the healing paste applied to the upper right side of her face. What made Draco stop breathing was Astoria, who ignored Harry when he called out her name, and ran towards the portal, dipping her arms into it.

 

“Help me pull him out!”

 

Draco thought he’d misheard her. 

 

“Don’t touch the opening, just grab onto me!” she yelled.

 

Everyone rushed to the girl’s side, grabbing her waist and shoulders. Rooted to the spot, Draco could only watch them, until the portal tore itself open with a horrible, otherworldly scream. Ghostly hands tried to snatch Charlie and Harry, who stepped back just in time.

 

When Sirius removed the Invisibility Cloak and smirked as if he’d just pulled the best prank of the century, Draco’s legs stopped carrying him, and he collapsed on his knees.

 

He might have been raised to hide his emotions; he might even be good at it. But he just couldn’t stop the tears that were now running down his cheeks and soaking the fabric of his clothes.

 

“Draco!” 

 

He shook his head, refusing to look at his adoptive father. Sirius gathered him into his arms and Draco grabbed on to him, in a way he knew would be painful, his fingers digging desperately into his robes. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius whispered, kissing his hair. Draco would have been embarrassed in any other circumstance. “I didn’t mean to scare you so much.”

 

“Padfoot, I thought you were gone,” Harry cried, sharing the hug.

 

It would be fine. They were okay.

 

They were together.

 

***

 

Vitaly Gnedykh died at nine in the morning, with a ray of sunlight covering his body, surrounded by those he had mentored, taught, and laughed with. Sirius wrapped him in a clean sheet found in Narcissa’s old quarters as they waited for the ICW Aurors. As much as he wanted to kill Pettigrew, who was still unconscious next to Nagini’s dead body, Sirius wouldn’t risk going back to Azkaban.

 

His son and godson never left his side, and he didn’t want them to. Charlie kept his distance. Sirius thought he needed to let go of some steam; after all, if Charlie had jumped into a portal straight to the realm of Death and come back with a big grin on his face, Sirius would most likely have lost his marbles and said some things he would later come to regret.

 

The truth was, Sirius knew what he was doing, at least partially. Somewhere in a forest in Albania, a journal written in Parseltongue had given him the confidence to create an insane plan, one he didn’t share with anyone, as he wasn’t quite sure he would ever make it out alive. The sentence he’d remembered? “ _To hide from the eyes of the Unseen, stitch the souls of the Lost and wear them as a cape._ ” 

 

Plan A was to get Voldemort inside the portal with magic. Plan B was to kill him outright. There was no Plan C… not officially. Physically pushing him in there was ridiculous, Gryffindorish, and just the sort of thing an idiotic Marauder would do. 

 

He hid from Death with James- _Harry’s_ cloak. Once under its protection, he’d stayed still until Astoria's pet Lethifold finally severed what little remained of the monster’s mangled soul and carried it away.

 

Astoria had left then, going back to her body, and Sirius had waited for her help, because on the other side, there was no portal to let him out. He remembered when the Sea Wyvern and weasel Patroni appeared and kept him company.

 

Now, walking out of Malfoy Manor in the calm of a winter morning, arms around his boys’ shoulders, he realised how tired he was. His brain was foggy. He didn’t know what to feel - was this really the end? Did he kill Lord Voldemort for good?

 

He let himself relax and smiled at Pansy’s groan when her stomach rumbled. “Breakfast?”

 

“I don’t want to bring unwelcome news, but we’re not out of the woods yet,” Andromeda replied. “We need to help the Order.”

 

Sirius stopped walking and felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach. He'd forgotten about the Death Eaters. How stupid could he be? Looking around, he noticed the dirt and blood on everyone’s skin. Draco, Pansy, Astoria, and Harry looked so young… they shouldn’t be there. They should never have joined the fight. Things wouldn’t have turned out as well as they did without them, but he still felt enough guilt to refuse to allow them to help this time. “Kids, no arguing: use your Portkey.”

 

“Sirius-”

 

He hugged Harry, kissed his forehead, and did the same to his son, taking a moment to admire the familial features he was growing into. “I’ll be careful. No more stunts. I didn’t kill Snakeface just to let one of his followers off me. I promise.”

 

“I’ll keep him away from the battle,” Charlie said gruffly, his glare daring him to protest. “We’ve done enough.”

 

The teens were too exhausted to insist, so Sirius watched them activate their Portkey and be taken away to France. As soon as they left, he rolled his shoulders to get rid of a crick in his neck. The ICW Aurors were about to storm in. 

 

“I’ll stay,” Andromeda murmured softly. “Someone needs to be there for Vitaly’s body.”

 

Sirius grabbed Charlie’s arm and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. It was a huge relief when he saw Bill, barely awake, drinking a Healing Potion, but he could barely get a word out before Molly ran to him with a resigned look on her face.

 

“You are insane! All of you!”

 

“We might be, but You-Know-Who is gone-”

 

She gasped and pulled him into a hug so tight it nearly bruised his ribs. Charlie snickered, but quickly suffered the same fate, and Bill smiled brightly. 

 

“Well done.”

 

“Really though, you almost got killed by a bookshelf!” Charlie said, and Molly slapped the back of his head. “Ouch, Mum!”

 

“Don’t be mean to your brother.” She summoned a teapot and Sirius gratefully accepted a cup, sinking into the nearest chair. She pinned him with a hard stare, as if she could read his mind. “Don’t you boys move. You’re staying here.”

 

“They might still need us.”

 

“They do not. Arthur sent a Patronus. They’re rounding up the remaining Death Eaters.”

 

Sirius kept his mouth shut, because he wanted this moment to last a bit longer. He feared hearing the names of the fallen, and if he didn’t know them, he could pretend all would be well.


	28. Revelations

_ Grimmauld Place _

 

Sirius woke up with a groan of dismay after only three hours of sleep, cataloguing each painful twinge in his body and squinting in the bleak light that spoke of a rainy day. He wondered if the beautiful sunrise at Malfoy Manor had been a dream, but this was England, the weather changed without warning. 

 

His nap had been longer than anticipated and he still felt like he could easily sleep for an entire week. Nothing about the current situation made any sense to him.

 

He was laying on his childhood bed, the posters on the wall still reminding him of his teenage rebellion. The house creaked and croaked with a disturbing familiarity. He almost expected a tiny Regulus to come into his room without knocking to ask him something idiotic in typical little brother fashion.

 

He sighed and counted the cracks on the ceiling.

 

There was no Regulus to annoy him, no James to send an owl to. His train of thoughts led to Harry and Draco, both safe and sound in France after the nightmarish night they’d all spent in Wiltshire, and he started laughing helplessly. 

 

It was dawning on him now: it was over. He, Sirius Orion Black, had killed the most feared Dark Lord in recent memory.

 

Two quick knocks at the door were his only warning before Charlie slipped into the room. Sirius noticed the bruises all over his arms, the limp he didn’t have before the fight, his bed hair and the circles under his eyes. 

 

Sitting up despite his sore muscles, he smiled. “Morning.”

 

Charlie crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Hey. Heard from the Delacours.”

 

This woke him up completely. “The boys?”

 

“Asleep and fine. A Healer came for Pansy and Astoria, but there’s nothing to worry about. Should we discuss what I’m going to do to you?”

 

“Bugger me senseless?” Sirius smirked.

 

“No, you absolute arse! How could you just jump into that stupid portal? We thought you were dead!”

 

He wanted to shrink and hide. Turning into Padfoot and whining pitifully sounded great right now, but it wouldn’t help. Charlie took a few steps forward. His insecurities tugged at Sirius’ heartstrings and made his guilt bloom. He bit the inside of his cheek, left his bed and embraced the other man, who returned the hug and clung to him.

 

Sirius felt the extent of his relief in the way his breath hitched, his shoulders sagged and his fingers pulled at his hair. He thought about the moment Harry’s soul left his body a year ago, when the ritual went wrong and wondered how much worse he would have felt if this had happened because Harry had been reckless instead. How angry he would have been. He still remembered the fight he’d had with James when he and Lily chose to leave the safety of Potter Manor to live in Godric’s Hollow. So, yes, he could understand Charlie’s feelings.

 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, lips brushing against the other man’s neck. “I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get out. We don’t know what he found out about the other world, except that he discovered its existence. What if-” 

 

Charlie shut him up with a searing kiss. When they parted, Sirius looked deep into his eyes and dragged him towards the bed - until Molly called them. 

 

“I guess we’d better go before she decides to come upstairs.”

 

Charlie smirked and untangled his fingers from Sirius’ hair. Sirius got dressed in an old robe that belonged to his father and cast a Charm to clean his teeth. 

 

When they arrived in the kitchen, they sat together under Arthur’s calm glance. Molly gave them a cup of tea and Sirius almost inhaled his, before noticing that most of the Order was here. Unusual, since they had been meeting in the Muggle world for a while, but with Bill’s wounds, it was better not to move around too much, and the Weasleys wouldn’t leave their son’s side. 

 

Andromeda sat without Ted, her eye still hidden under a Concealment Charm. She held Emmeline Vance’s hand tightly while the other woman struggled to hide her tears. At the back of the room, leaning against the wall, Snape reminded Sirius of Walburga’s portrait - sneering, lurking in the darkness. 

 

Everyone looked exhausted and Dumbledore was pale. His healthy hand shook slightly and the twinkle in his eyes was absent. 

 

“Yesterday evening,” the old man said, “Voldemort ordered a raid on Diagon Alley. I am saddened to announce the death of Dedalus, Sturgis and Hestia.”

 

At the mention of her name, Emmeline let out a loud sob. Sirius stared at his tea and Kingsley took over: 

 

“Civilian losses include Sarah Goldstein and Florean Fortescue. Most of the bodies have yet to be identified.” He shuddered. “Ted’s wounds are severe but the Healers believe he can make it.” At that, Andromeda sniffled. “Mundungus vanished during the fight. While it could have been much worse, it was still a bloodbath.” 

 

“We need to stop You-Know-Who!” Elphias clamoured. “What’s he going to do next? Target St. Mungo?”

 

Hagrid nodded vigorously.

 

“What I would like to know, is what happened at Hogwarts,” Arthur said tiredly. “The children were holed up in the Chamber of Secrets, and all we could find were dead Death Eaters. Not to mention the Dragon - how did it get there?”

 

“Summoned by the school, I presume,” Snape drawled. “I must apologize for leaving my unsavoury acquaintances all over the floor. I had more important things to see to.”

 

Sirius drank the last drops of his tea, listening to the scattered reports. So, Hogwarts had been attacked and defended herself? Dementors were involved, many of them destroyed? Kingsley announced that an order signed by an Imperiused Yaxley had recalled the rest of them to Azkaban, so at least they weren’t roaming the country freely.

 

“Did we lose anyone at Hogwarts?” Molly asked.

 

The list was short but followed by a heavy silence. Charlie was the one to break it when Dumbledore’s gaze fell on the Weasleys, travelled to Andromeda, and rested on Sirius. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Would you care to explain your presence here, and your absence last night?” Albus’ voice was calm but possessed the kind of icy undertone that made Sirius’ skin crawl. “With the Aurors taking so much time to react, having more wands ready could have saved many lives.”

 

Bristling, Sirius almost hexed the Headmaster. “Are you blaming us for the dead?”

 

“Not at all, my boy, but one must wonder.”

 

“The safe-houses. I came to make sure they were open.”

 

“Surely this didn’t take an entire night.”

 

“Merlin’s balls, Albus!” All eyes snapped to Molly, whose red complexion indicated an imminent threat, and Sirius’ eyebrows climbed up to his hairline at the words she used. “These boys decided they had enough of your endless meetings and inaction, and as much as it pained me to see them go, they spent the whole night in Malfoy Manor. Do you understand? You-Know-Who is gone. Dead. Sirius destroyed him. He’s never coming back!”

 

The noise level in the grimy kitchen forced Sirius to press his hands against his ears, but he couldn’t stop a satisfied smirk from stretching his lips at the sight of so many Order members losing their minds. He might be petty, but he hadn’t forgotten how they’d all thought he deserved to be in Azkaban. Those involved in last night’s adventure were calmly assessing the situation, though Andromeda looked smug and Bill exchanged a weak high-five with Charlie.

 

Unfortunately, having to explain everything while keeping the kids’ involvement quiet took a long time, and Sirius was more than ready to join his boys in France by the time Albus finally believed them. 

 

“Forget sleeping for an entire week, I need a year of rest after that,” he muttered once the meeting eventually ended. He kissed Charlie out of sight from Molly, who was speaking to Ron through the Floo. “Join me?”

 

“Not yet. I’d like to go home for now - just, you know. Because of Bill.”

 

Sirius smiled sadly. This was a time for family. “Keep in touch?”

 

“You think I’m letting you off the hook so easily, Black? I seem to recall an invitation to, I quote, bugger you senseless. I just want to spend Christmas at the Burrow, but I’m coming for your arse later!”

 

Sirius did not blush. He didn’t. 

 

“I’m looking forward to it.”

 

***

 

_ Christmas morning, Château Delacour _

 

Harry tiptoed into the room at the end of the hall, still reluctant to touch the pristine walls and leave a fingerprint somewhere. Every piece of furniture, every wall, every curtain was so white it was almost painful to look at them. Even the floor, carpeted or otherwise, looked like someone had left the window open during a snowstorm. He was still surprised to find hints of colour in the library, having almost expected every book cover to match their surroundings.

 

Château Delacour was a peaceful home built during the Renaissance period and recently renovated. It was smaller than Malfoy Manor and its towers reminded Harry of Hogwarts, without the rough stones or tiny windows that spoke of a time when archers were needed. It was a pretentious piece of architecture, but for the past few days, it had been a sanctuary.

 

An annoying one, where he wasn’t allowed to share Draco’s room at night. Hence his presence here now. 

 

He made sure to close the door quietly behind him and walked up to the bed. Draco was sleeping under a mountain of blankets. The vials of Painkilling Potion on the nightstand reflected the sunlight. Carefully, Harry slipped under the covers, mindful not to bump into the warm body next to him. He brushed a kiss against the back of the other boy’s neck, and Draco sighed.

 

“You woke me up.”

 

Nibbling on the exposed skin of his shoulder, Harry hummed. 

 

“My arms hurt.”

 

Harry propped himself up on his elbow. “Still?”

 

“Mh.” Turning around, Draco looked at him, adorably mussed. “You try turning into a Werewolf and tell me you’re not sore the next morning. Or the day after.”

 

They both knew it could have been much worse. When Draco went through his first transformation on the evening of their arrival, behind wards set by the Veela side of the Delacour family, he was more scared than hurt. The wolf didn’t fight against him or force him to bite himself. When he accepted the presence of Harry’s Animagus form, it was like a signal had been sent to everyone else, and his friends turned into their forms to keep him company. The worst part had been transforming back and accidentally dislocating his hip.

 

It had been so painful he had to be sedated. A private Healer had taken care of it, so the pain he was feeling now was just the expected soreness after putting such a strain on his muscles. To be honest, after fighting so hard three days earlier, Harry’s body still hurt too. 

 

“Did anyone see you?” Draco asked.

 

“Pansy, on her way to Mione’s room.” The Delacour were old-fashioned and would not let unmarried couples share a room, let alone a bed. Hearing that Draco and Harry had shared theirs for a year had shocked them to the core. Did they think their daughter and Bill slept separately? Or did they just not know? Harry didn’t want to disrespect them by violating their rules, but they said nothing about slipping into a lover’s room in the morning. 

 

He and Draco exchanged a slow, loving kiss, that quickly turned into breathless moans, Draco pinned under him, arching his back and begging softly. 

 

They’d done this once already, when the Portkey brought them to France; before night fell and Draco transformed. They’d needed to. The terror of losing Sirius, even for a short time, the fear of facing Voldemort, of seeing Bill’s blood on the floor and holding Professor Gnedykh’s hand until he stopped breathing… they’d needed to find this reassurance in each other. 

 

To Harry, it felt natural, and right. It was beautiful and raw and perfect, and he was no longer intimidated by the idea of going even further. He knew that when it happened, they’d both be comfortable enough with each other’s bodies to make it worth the wait.

 

He ignored the knowing glint in Sirius’ eyes when he sat down for breakfast later. 

 

“Where’s Draco?”

 

“Shower.”

 

Theo disguised his laughter under a cough and handed him the platter of pastries. Harry thanked him and looked around.

 

Gabrielle and her parents were speaking together in French, so he ignored them. Narcissa delicately stirred her tea. Millicent, Katie and Astoria were busy comparing their holiday traditions and only stopped to greet Draco when he finally made an appearance, dressed in elegant light blue robes. Hermione and Pansy were last, earning snickers and discrete winks.

 

On the table were several copies of the Daily Prophet, released forty-eight hours ago. Due to a shortage of owls and no functioning Ministry in Britain, it had taken longer to send copies to France.

 

He glanced at it.

 

_ THE END OF YOU-KNOW-WHO _

_ Special Edition by Rita Skeeter _

 

_ Barely two months after the return of You-Know-Who was revealed by representatives of the International Confederation of Wizards, I, dear readers, am delighted to announce his defeat. _

 

_ Killed by none other than Lord Sirius Orion Black, a dashing young man badly wronged by our Ministry, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone for good. _

 

_ How can we be sure that this is not a ruse, you may ask? Turn to page 2 to find out more! _

 

_ For more exclusive articles:  _

_ YAXLEY: BETRAYAL OF A LORD, page 8 _

_ MINISTRY LOCKDOWN! THE ICW IN CONTROL, page 11-12 _

_ CHRISTMAS SHOPPING HORROR IN DIAGON ALLEY, page 24-27 _

  
  


It reminded him of the silent vigil they’d held yesterday when the names of most of the victims had been released. While Harry couldn’t grieve for people he didn’t know, he remembered Mister Fortescue fondly from his stay in Diagon Alley when Sirius escaped from Azkaban. Draco had taken the news with the stoic face he used to hide his emotions: many of the dead had been in Slytherin and had been Marked. Harry knew Draco had no love lost for Marcus Flint, but Crabbe had been a childhood friend.

 

Having no desire to read anything else, he listened to Narcissa and Sirius. Hearing about the Inferi attack scared him, because he didn’t understand how it could have happened, and as long as the Norwegian Aurors didn’t figure it out, they advised against going back to Lilium. Hopefully, they would declare the place safe by the end of winter break, as Harry dearly missed his room, his dad’s portrait, and his freedom. In the meantime, he and Draco would just suffer in silence and steal quiet moments in the morning.

 

It was odd, not having everyone here. Mister Hammer and Miss Sundheim went back to Norway, avoiding Lilium for now but wanting to be with their families. Amelia had visited a day earlier and taken Susan home with her, to Terence’s consternation, and Hermione was only here with them because little Gabrielle invited her. Blaise was in Italy, Flitwick and Dumbledore at Hogwarts, and Remus and Tonks back in England to take care of her wounded parents. Adrian had gone back to check on the safehouses with his parents and he had taken Evander with him because the child had formed an attachment to him. The children who would have been Marked and were hidden in the various properties opened by the Order would stay where they were for now: unlike Muggleborn families, who were already back in their homes, they might still be a target. Adrian wanted to make sure they could see a familiar face and hear some news without relying on the Daily Prophet. 

 

The British Wizarding World was a mess that Harry wanted no part of, but he still wondered if he shouldn’t take some time to visit the Burrow. Charlie was back home and Sirius was restless, so… why not? He cleared his throat.

 

“Sirius, can we visit the Weasleys?”

 

“Oh! I would love to see Luna, doesn’t she live nearby?” Astoria asked with a grin, a miniature Anubis dozing off on her shoulder. 

 

“She does,” Hermione replied.

 

Narcissa excused herself when Kreacher informed her that the twins were awake, and Draco’s arm slithered around Harry’s waist, their chairs stuck together. 

 

Sirius stifled a yawn. “I don’t mind bringing you there in the future, but now isn’t the time. It’s still too risky. When we’re back in Norway, let’s invite everyone instead.”

 

Well, it seemed like the Gryffindor side of his godfather had been tamed. It wasn’t too disappointing, even if Harry missed Ron. Letters would do. At least Hermione was here with him again (even if she spent her entire time with Pansy in the Delacour's’ library).

 

Unused to eating sweet food for breakfast, he left part of his pastries on his plate, and Draco stole them, piling them up in front of him. The normalcy of his actions made the small tension in his shoulders vanish and he started to laugh, soon joined by Sirius who lost it at the sight of his adoptive son guarding his plate like a Niffler protecting its hoard of shiny objects.

 

Things might not be over yet, but here, hidden at the Château, they were untouchable. Perhaps Harry could convince Draco to accept a Christmas gift this year.


	29. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the previous chapter if your email notifications didn't inform you that I posted 2 of them today! Ao3 notifications sometimes don't work if updates are very close to one another.

_ June 1997, Norway  _

 

Harry lay on a blanket in the middle of a field of colourful flowers. The sun shone brightly, though Frank the Conjured cloud, still surrounding the Tranquil Spire domain, was casting a shadow over him. The air smelt like the wildness of the ocean, and right next to him, Draco was smiling, playing with his brothers who crawled all over him, laughed and kept calling him “Dway”. 

 

At one year old, Cepheus’ hair was now a deep, warm brown and his complexion didn’t remind Harry of Narcissa or Voldemort. His skin was darker. It was interesting and made him wonder about Salazar Slytherin’s ethnicity, which was not mentioned in History books. With his big, light grey eyes, the boy would be a little heartbreaker in the future. On the other hand, Hydrus was a mini-Draco. With some luck, he wouldn’t grow up to be a Lucius lookalike. They were chirpy, happy babies, both healthy and loved. Harry was now sure that the little Heir of Slytherin was a Squib because the magic he could feel from him was just as stagnant as it had been when he was born, while Hydrus’ kept growing and changing. Their paediatrician agreed.

 

It was such a beautiful day, shortly after Draco’s seventeenth birthday, and Harry was happier than ever. The sun made the ring on his boyfriend’s finger glint; he wanted to giggle and blush like a lovesick idiot every time he looked at it. It was the same design as the bracelet Draco had given him last year, with the same significance. Eternal, infinite love and devotion. It hadn’t been a proposal but a promise. They both didn’t know if they would ever get married. They didn’t need to officialise their relationship to spend their lives together. 

 

Sirius, on the other hand, had already tied the knot. Charlie Weasley-Black had shocked his entire family by eloping. They'd only warned Harry and Draco, took them with them for the ceremony then dropped them off at Lilium and left for their honeymoon in Tahiti. Barely a few days into their romantic getaway, Tonks had given birth, forcing Remus to propose as soon as he held his newborn son in his arms. Little Edward Lupin was Harry’s godson (and Merlin, if that wasn’t a scary idea). 

 

Shortly after, Lord Greengrass organised his eldest daughter’s wedding on the grounds of the hotel. Daphne had apologised to Draco for her judgemental attitude when Greyback had bitten him, so Sirius didn't mind allowing her back around the school. Meanwhile, Bill and Fleur’s ceremony was held at the Burrow. 

 

It was almost an overwhelming mess, yet a sorely needed relief after the past few months. While the Norwegian Aurors had cleared Lilium’s grounds in early January, the Inferi’s presence was still a mystery, and Draco and Harry’s excursions on Draco’s moped wouldn’t happen anymore until it was solved. The news from Britain hadn’t been particularly good lately, between Gringotts still withholding money, the ruins of the Board of Governors trying to interfere in Hogwarts and Death Eaters on the run still wreaking havoc on unsuspecting people. The Daily Prophet’s most notable headlines in the wake of Voldemort’s death were, among others, DOZENS KILLED IN FIENDFYRE FURY, LORD GREENGRASS: BACHELOR ONCE MORE, THE BOY-WHO-LIVED: NOT OUR SAVIOUR?, LOST SLYTHERINS FOUND!,GRINGOTTS AND YOU. They showed the stupidity of the Wizarding public, in Harry’s opinion, because the gossipy ones led to an unending stream of articles in Witch Weekly (according to Ron, who swore he hadn't been reading them).

 

The Death Eaters who had been caught had been sentenced by the ICW and Azkaban had been emptied: each prisoner had been moved to Nurmengard, as the Dementors couldn’t be trusted - and in Harry’s opinion, shouldn’t ever have been used in the first place. 

 

There were still endless parties to remind everyone that Voldemort was finally gone. And while it would take years for the United Kingdom to rise from the ashes and rebuild their magical society, here in Norway, barely anything reminded them of the attacks. The gas station was standing proudly on the side of the road, the scorched earth around the school was covered in grass and flowers. The only visible scars were on the people themselves, those who chose to stay.

 

Professor Flitwick was back in Scotland, getting ready for the next school year, snatching his job back from Percy who had taken over Minerva’s Transfiguration classroom. Dumbledore was retired, enjoying his life before his next great adventure, which would surely come soon, as the curse on his hand was now progressing quickly. Blaise was still in Italy, while Adrian and Katie were reunited with their families in England. 

 

Each student of Lilium aside from Evander, Pansy and Astoria, had now passed their NEWTs. Draco had scored straight Os, beating Hermione (who had graduated from Beauxbâtons a year early and was spending the summer in Norway). He was proud as a peacock. Pansy wanted to take her time and study a bit longer before passing them. She was, after all, only at the end of her Sixth Year, and only enrolled at Lilium a year ago. Terence’s apprenticeship at the Lycanthropic Hospital was going swimmingly, and Theo had accepted Sirius’ offer to be sent to culinary school and was waiting for an answer to his numerous applications. He refused to go back to England for now, not with his father’s name attached to him like a curse, and Millicent agreed with him and had no plans to return either.

 

Everyone was finding their way, little by little. Things weren’t perfect. Many children and adults in Britain had lived through traumatic experiences and would need Mind Healing. The ICW was supplying Healers from all over the world to help them - one of them, who had come from Argentina, was now a permanent resident at Hogwarts, and another, from Singapore, had chosen to live in Norway to be available for the students, teachers and inhabitants of Lilium. Not everyone needed him, but Harry, Draco, Astoria, Pansy, Evander, Sirius and Narcissa weren’t ashamed to say that they did.

 

Summer was just starting, and it promised to be a busy one: with the Fidelius broken, Lilium had been revealed to the world and needed to be ready to welcome students interested in alternative studying methods. They would still have teachers (one of them being none other than a portrait of Professor Gnedykh), but self-study had proven to be quite efficient over the past two years, and this was the way the school would continue to grow. 

 

Harry shuffled closer to Draco and nuzzled his cheek. He wasn’t sure where they’d both go from there, and he didn’t mind. 

 

Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm done! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story, and everyone who will, now that it is complete.
> 
> What about part 3? There are many details left to clear up. I might continue the story, so subscribe to the series if you want to.

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm on Twitter:[FuzzyJawa](https://twitter.com/FuzzyJawa)_   
>  _And on Tumblr, so come talk to me, I don't bite:[PenguinAnimagus](https://penguinanimagus.tumblr.com)_


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